


When Worlds Collide

by TehLadyCav



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cheating, F/M, Fucked Up, Love, Mistress, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 42,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLadyCav/pseuds/TehLadyCav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. They were just two people, trying to get by in the world. And then they found each other, and neither one was the same after. All they had was love. All they wanted was love. But sometimes, life happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> What if the apocalypse never happened? What if the world never ended? What if Nayna and Negan had met each other before? What if, what if, what if? This piece is a fun little story, mostly for myself, based on some of the Here's Negan comics (and I'll try to stay somewhat true to the character of Negan pre-zombies). This is an offshoot to my other story: The Price We Pay, using my OC Nayna. It's a love story, but with two seriously fucked up people. My specialty. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, feedback is welcomed.

Nayna hadn't planned to spend her birthday alone. But there she was, alone with only a piece of cake and a glass of wine to keep her company. She wasn't a big drinker, but she was already on her second glass. Not like she was going anywhere but to bed anyway. 

He hadn't shown up to dinner. She'd made reservations at a steakhouse in Tyson's Corner. She'd worn her sexiest, slinkiest black dress, with its high hemline and form fitting shape. She'd put on heels, done her makeup just so, painted her nails, shaved her legs, pulled back her hair. All the girly things she so often neglected.

She downed the glass and reached for the bottle, pouring herself a third glass. She'd waited an hour and a half. It wasn't like him to be late. She'd texted and called and sent him a message on Facebook, but had gotten no response. Part of her was genuinely worried about him. But the other part of her filled with a white hot jealous rage.

She'd white knuckled it back to Quantico. The entire hour and a half drive. Through fucking rush hour traffic. Stop and fucking go. With her stomach wailing the entire time, halfway between worry and anger. 

Eleven years. Eleven fucking years and he'd never once stood her up. Her rational, perfectly logical side knew she should be worried about him. But her irrational side was angry. He'd stood her up on her birthday of all damned days. Her thirtieth birthday to boot. Her pride, her vanity were both wounded.

And so she'd come home to an empty house. A cold, lonely house. And she drank. She couldn't even look at the stupid slice of cake without wanting to cry. And she would go to bed, wondering if it was over.

She hadn't even bothered to let down her hair or take off her dress. Nayna had gone straight for the bottle of wine. The fucking one-hundred-one dollar bottle of wine she'd planned to share with him. 

She'd just drained her fourth glass of wine when her front door swung open and slammed shut. A shot of anger pierced her heart and she rose unsteadily to her feet, ready to meet him. He stood in the entryway, panting as if he'd run a race. She stood in the archway of the dining room and crossed her arms over her chest.

Nayna expected his normal over-dramatic, overconfident self. His bolstering swagger, his booming laugh. What she didn't expect was to come up against the column of his lust. His normally hazel eyes were almost black in the dimmed light of her house. She blinked at him, trying to make sense of the glare on his face, the flare of his nostrils and the pressing of his lips together.

Instead of acting like a mature, grown adult of thirty, she pouted like a petulant child. “You didn't come.”

She expected an apology, a sigh, a smile. But he only stared at her with a heavy gaze, his eyes glittering in an unsettling manner. She took a step back from him, but he advanced forward.

Her head spun from all the wine and she stopped, grasping a chair for balance. “Negan, what are you doing?”

He said nothing as he loomed over her, one big paw coming to settle at her waist. Her heart unceremoniously skipped a beat as he pulled her body against his. Nayna found her hands on his chest, crumpling into his t-shirt. She was glad to find his heart was pounding just as hard as hers.

She was lightheaded and dizzy from all the wine. Which was why she let him pick her up and carry her into her bedroom. 

“What's gotten into you?” she slurred but still received no reply.

He let her down, her body slid down the front of his as he kicked the door shut behind him. He stared down at her as he dragged his tongue across his lower lip, slowly, sensually. The more he looked at her with that hunger, the more she forgot her anger. And the more worried her rational brain became. But the wine made her head fuzzy and her arousal clouded any rational thought from her mind.

His fingers played with one of the straps of her dress, sliding under and snapping it back. She shivered at his touch. Eleven years and he still could make her into a fucking puddle of whore. His other hand roamed until it came to rest on the slight curve of her bottom. He squeezed and pushed her into him.

She cupped her hands around his face and stood on tip toe. She tilted her face upwards and he bent down brushing his lips against hers. Slow at first and then with ever increasing desire. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue to sweep inside. 

He gathered the material of her dress in his fist, pulling the already high hemline, even higher over her thighs, giving him a flash of bright blue panties. She whimpered into his mouth as his thumb traced over the lacey edges.

He pulled away as suddenly as he had grabbed her. And he was looking at her, chest heaving, eyes ablaze. Nayna sucked her lip between her teeth, unsure of him. This was new. Very new. He'd never just taken her before. 

And then he grinned his Negany grin, wide and almost maniacal. She nearly sighed in relief at the glimpse of the man she knew and loved. Nayna sagged into him, putting her heavy head against his broad chest.

But Negan had other plans. He pushed her against the wall, pawing at her panties as his lips moved across her throat. “I fucking need you.”

She buried her fingers in his hair, the ache for him too long unsatisfied. He often told her she worried too much, didn't relax enough, didn't go with the flow enough. So she did something only the wine would let her do. She stopped thinking and let herself go. With his erection pressing into her belly, his hands up her skirt and his sweet words, he was a hard man to resist. And she wanted him.

Nayna gasped as he nipped her collarbone. “I'm here, love. I'm right here.”

When his fingers successfully hooked into the waistband of her panties, he jerked them down around her ankles. She pulled her body closer to his, but he merely pinned her harder against the wall, biting and licking her skin with an urgency she'd never seen in him before. 

He captured her lips with his own and shoved his tongue into her mouth, all while pushing her skirt higher and higher about her waist. He used one big hand to pull her left leg about him, bringing her up on the ball of her right foot. Hooking an arm underneath her, he lifted her up higher against the wall. She gripped his shoulders and clung to him for dear life.

With one jerk of his hand he was free from the constraints of his pants and he grunted as he pushed his way inside of her. Even though they'd made love hundreds, maybe thousands of times before, he could still surprise her. Eleven years later, and he still desired her. 

They'd never fucked up against the wall before. 

He buried his face between her breasts, moaning into her skin with every thrust. She whimpered along with him as she tightened her legs around his hips. It was rough and hard and delicious, but so unlike him to just take her with this savage passion. Not that she had any complaints, because rough sex was her favorite sex, but Negan usually asked before he slammed into her.

She curled her arms about his neck, and put her nose to the crown of his head, inhaling his masculine musk, a mixture of leather, Acqua Di Gio colonge and his own scent underneath it all. Comforting smells that reminded her of love and home.

Their moans mingled together. She drew him in closer to her and moved her hips in rhythm with his. He kept his face between her breasts, even though she tried to coax him out for a kiss. 

His thrusts came at a faster and faster pace, a good indication of his impending orgasm. But he kept going beyond the point where he would have come. She couldn't quite grasp the thought, though and closed her eyes, trying to enjoy him.

Negan panted and jerked out of her, leaving her to slide down the wall. Her eyes popped open and she stared up at him, furrowing her brow. He was still hard and glistening, dragging his tongue across his lower lip as he continued to pant.

“Negan?”

He looked away. “Goddammit. I fucking...I fucking can't, okay?”

Nayna held up her hands and stumbled back to her feet. “It's fine. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You're not acting like...”

“I'm not okay. I am not fucking okay!” 

He grabbed a picture frame and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered all over her new carpet. She stared stupidly at it. Her goddaughter had given her that frame. She swayed, unsure if she was angry, scared or upset. Probably a culmination of the three, but she was still too inebriated to think straight.

Finally she squinted up at him, deciding on anger as her best method of attack. “The fuck was that? That was a brand new fucking frame!”

“I don't fucking care. I don't...” 

His contorted face seemed to crumple before her eyes and he sat down on her bed, deflated and hollow and flaccid.

She pressed a closed fist to her forehead as she leaned back against the door, trying to gather her slippery thoughts. Fucking fuck he'd been acting strangely all goddamn night. She exhaled long and loud before pushing herself off. As much as she was angry at him, she still couldn't bear to see him so...sad. A sad Negan was not her Negan. 

Nayna sat beside him, threading her arm through his. “What is it?”

He buried his hands in his face. “My wife has cancer.”


	2. Chuckles

I met Negan at the tender age of nineteen, two weeks into my sophmore year of college. That sunny Saturday morning I had been suckered into helping my friend Claire with her vegan awareness program. She yelled at passersby and threw flyers at them while I sat behind the booth selling vegan faux-chocolate cupcakes. 

I secretly tried one of the no-dairy, vegan cupcakes. I regretted it. To my dying day I would regret it. Two dollars was three too many. In the space of two hours I'd sold two. One that I'd eaten myself and one for Claire's girlfriend, Shanda. 

My stomach rumbled and Claire glared at me as I pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich from my bag.

I raised a brow. “What?”

Her gray eyes slid to the sandwich and back up to my face. I looked at the sandwich and then back at Claire and shrugged, feeling a bit like an asshole. 

She sniffed and shook her head. “Murderer.”

I took a large bite out of the sandwich. “Delicious murder.”

Clarie rolled her eyes. But I wasn't offended. I'd known Claire since grade school. She was all bark and hardly any bite. 

The campus was mostly empty, with most students enjoying their weekend somewhere else besides in the quad with a pushy vegan activist and her chubby friend. 

I loved Claire. She was one of my only friends at the time. She was a tall, stick thin girl, with long dreadlocks, a nose piercing and she was covered in tattoos. She'd been urging me to do something crazy, like get a tattoo or color my hair a funky color or pierce something, but thus far I'd managed to resist her crazy ideals, including the veganism. I was a firm omnivore. Meat and cheese.

At that point my only hope was to fake sick and pretend to be dying from eating said vegan cupcake. I just didn't see how else I was going to get out of it. I wished I had thought to bring a magazine or a book. Or even my new iPod. 

“Hey!” Claire shouted at a group of high school kids running by. “Did you know that millions of animals---”

One of the boys stopped and grinned at her. “---hey baby wanna suck my dick?”

Claire stood open mouthed, staring at the kid who couldn't have been more than fifteen. I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing. But the other kids didn't bother to stifle their hoots and hollers.

She squinted at them. “Go back to your cradle, babies.”

The boy grinned. “Only if you come tuck me in, baby.”

By that time I had to cover my mouth with my hand to hide my snickering. Claire's eyes narrowed behind her thick rimmed glasses. The ones without the lenses.

“Look here--”

“--hey what are you fuckers doing? Go to the fucking auditorium like I told you!”

My heart was gone the instant I looked up at him, with his wispy dark hair brushing over his forehead and his hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the high schoolers. That's when I noticed the sleeves of his t-shirt stretched tightly over his biceps. His nice, big, chisled biceps. 

His voice was loud and booming, making several people turn to look at him. “Seriously? Fucking get your asses down there. Now!”

“Yes, Coach Negan,” one of the boys muttered.

The man—Negan—watched them go, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about that ma'am. Little fuckers have no fucking manners.”

Claire glared up at him. “I wonder where they get it from.”

He grinned, showing off his dimples. My stupid heart fluttered and a nervous snort escaped my mouth. Negan's gaze flickered back to me and his smile widened even more. 

He nodded at Claire. “Pardon me.”

And then he walked over to me. I leaned on the booth trying to look cool. It's hard to look cool when caught in a fit of giggles. My knuckles still covered my mouth as I looked up at him.

Looked up at him, hah. I practically had to tilt backwards to look into his face. He was a good twelve inches taller than me. I'm short on a good day. Next to Negan, I'm positively tiny.

His hazel eyes took in the cupcakes on the stand. “How much?”

“Two dollars,” Claire answered from behind him.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. “A fucking cupcake sounds fucking amazing right now.”

Negan fished out two dollars and plopped it on the counter. I was still standing there, frozen, like a damned fool, still fucking giggling. It didn't seem to put him off though, he merely swiped one of the chocolatish cupcakes from the booth.

I should have warned him. I should have said something, anything to make him put down the cupcake. Instead, I just watched with big eyes and shaking shoulders as he took a big, sexy bite of the death cake. Oh the face he made. In retrospect it's hilarious, but at the time I was horrified. And yet still quaking with laughter.

I couldn't control myself, I knew my face was red. The more I screamed at myself to stop, the harder it was to stop. 

He'd turned away, wiping the remanents of the cupcake from his face, before putting the rest back on the counter. 

His explaination? “It's really rich.”

But I knew firsthand how awful it was. With one hand still pressed against against my lips, I reached under the booth and procured a bottle of water for him. Our hands briefly touched and my gaze locked into his. My heart skipped a beat and my already sore face split into a wider grin.

God I felt stupid. Here was this big sexy man in front of me, and there I was rooted to the ground, unable to say or do much of anything. 

He took a gulp of water. “Thanks.”

I nodded, watching as he capped the water and put it next to the forgotten cupcake. 

“Hi. I'm Negan.”

And then I did something even dumber. I finger waved at him with my other hand. His laughter mingled with my desperate giggles. Claire looked between the two of us and rolled her eyes.

“Her name is Meghan. She's usually very articulate, but I think she's gone slightly retarded.”

Negan chuckled. “You know, I seem to have that effect on women.”

Claire tossed her blonde and white dreads over her shoulder. “Gross.”

“You don't know what you're missing out on.”

“I'm not a fan of sausage, so I'm good, thanks.”

Negan shrugged, unperturbed. “Ah, well. That's okay, because I'd rather hit on Chuckles over here. She's more my type.”

I heard Claire mutter under breath. “What, desperate?”

The laughter left my face almost immediately. But my fingers were still covering my mouth. There was nothing to be done about my eyes. Either Negan didn't hear her or he chose to ignore her because he leaned in a little close, and swept a hair from my face. His light touch sent tingles exploding throughout my body, and I forgot to be hurt by Claire's insult.

“Sorry, doll. It was....distracting.”

I nodded, my eyes wide and directed to his handsome, broad face. 

“I have to get going, but can I have your number? Set something up for later?”

Now, this was a time when Facebook didn't exist the way it does now. It was 2005, the year of the flip phone. Before social media, before texting became a big thing. Back when dial up was still sort of a thing, and when screen names weren't as professional. MagLove245 anyone?

Still fixed in place, I only stared at him. There was no way he was asking for my number. No way. I remember wondering who the hell would want the number of a chubby slob whose hair she couldn't even control? I didn't think I was pretty, or funny or smart. I wasn't anything. So I didn't understand why he thought I was something. Unless he thought I was easy.

That's when his bravado began to fade and I saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. Just as he was about to turn away Claire, lovely Claire, handed him a slip of paper.

“That's her number. Call her. She'll answer,” Claire cut me with her eyes. “Even if I have to make her dumbass answer, she will.”

Then Claire leaned over and whispered the worst possible thing at Negan. “She always gets that way around hot men.”

I squeaked and Negan's self-assured swagger returned as he grinned down at me with sparkling, mirthful eyes. “I sure as fuck will then.”

I wanted to die of embarrassment, wanted to melt into the grass and never get up again. The way he stared at me made me feel...funny. It turned me on. How could one look turn me on so much?

Claire cleared her throat, breaking our little trance. “Go away now, you're scaring off customers.”

“Gotta get back to the little assholes anyway. See ya later, doll.”

And he took off towards the auditorium, stopping briefly to look at me over his shoulder. I curled my toes in my sneakers, trying not to squeal again.

Truly, I was flattered. I loved the attention. But there was that horrible part of me that reminded me I was just not good enough.

“That was creepy,” Claire said, still watching him saunter into the building.

I let my hand drop on the counter. “Then why did you give him my number?”

Claire cut her eyes to me. “You need sex to get over your walls, dude. Lots of dirty sex. And he's probably a good candidate. A little douchey but, I bet he's good in bed.”

“You're going to make Shanda jealous, you know.”

She snorted. “I don't like men. They're all stupid. They all want one thing—pussy. Besides the gay ones of course. But still, men are idiots.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “You're a dick.”

“You need a dick.”

I rolled my eyes and went back to pretending to sell her shitty cupcakes.

 

Later day day I walked across the quad, with just my iPod for company. At the time it didn't occur to me that I was lonely. But I was terribly, terribly lonely.

I remember trying not to cry. I'd made a fool of myself in front of Negan, probably one of the most gorgeous men I'd ever laid eyes on. All sorts of shitty thoughts flew through my head. Especially about myself. I was dumb, childish, ugly, fat, frumpy. I thought it was probably best that I made a fool out of myself, at least he wouldn't be calling me.

I'd never been able to hold back tears, and that day was no exception. I swiped my eyes of stray tears and kept my head down, not wanting to be stopped by people only pretending to care. 

A hand grabbed my shoulder and I jerked away. My heart had leaped into my throat and I had to swallow several times to calm it down. When my eyes came into focus I noticed that it was Negan who had grabbed my shoulder. He was talking to me, but I couldn't hear him over my headphones.

I held up a shaky hand and paused the iPod and yanked the headphones from my ears. “I...Sorry.”

He shook his head and grinned. “You're fine. I actually had a free fucking moment and I'd like to hear you giggle over dinner. That is, if you don't object.”

I blinked up at him. After all that and he was still asking me out? I glanced down at my oversized shirt and my baggy jeans. I looked a mess. I couldn't understand why he wanted to go out with me of all people. Unless he thought he could just get into my pants.

But damn he was fine. And I was fucking hungry after playing fake vegan with Claire.

“Do you mind if I go shower and change first? I'd like to get the vegan off me.”

He laughed. “I'll wait here, doll.”

I blushed at his knowing smile and chewed on my inner lip.

“I don't know of any vegan places around here but I'm sure...”

I wrinkled my nose and he tilted his head to the side.

In a rare moment of self-assurance I smiled sweetly at him. “All I want is a fucking cheeseburger.”

His grin told me everything I needed to know.


	3. Our First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't you guys lucky? Three chapters in one night. Warning, this post contains extreme fluff and what may currently seem like OOC Negan (I hope not, haha). You've been warned.

I remember running as fast as my chubby legs would take me back to my dorm. Half of me was afraid Negan wouldn't be there when I got back. Half of me was afraid he would be there.

I threw every piece of clothing I had onto my bed and began the antagonizing process of piecing together a semi-decent outfit. Half my clothes didn't fit. The ones that did were mostly a frumpy hot mess. And then shoes. And hair. And makeup. And jewelry. 

Oh god, why did I say yes? Oh that's right because I was a desperate, lonely girl taken in by a charming and handsome man. I remember thinking that I was an idiot.

I found my favorite pair of jeans, a dark wash that accented my ass and flared out nicely at the bottoms. I couldn't quite button them without my belly hanging over, so I grabbed a hair-tie and looped it through the buttonhole and then around the button. And then I slipped into what I liked to call my boobie shirt. 

It gathered into my waist at just the right place, giving me the illusion of a not so round tummy. The neckline scooped low. Extremely low. Low enough to show nipple if I bent over in the right way.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror and nearly groaned. My fucking hair. It was a tangled mess from this morning, I hadn't even bothered to brush it. And when I finally did, it sparked and crackled and poofed out in every direction. 

I stood there, frozen in place when Claire walked into the room. 

She raised her brow at me and motioned over her shoulder. “Creepster is hanging out downstairs.”

“We're supposed to be having dinner,” I moaned. “I don't have time to flat iron this. And I don't want to wear a ponytail.”

Claire pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

I obeyed, looking down at my hands and my unpolished toes. Shit, all I had were flip flops. Claire somehow worked her magic and when I looked up, she'd twisted my hair into a nice, low maintenance bun. 

“Shit.”

Claire snorted. “You're welcome.”

It took another five minutes for us to track down the eyeliner and a pair of earrings. And then another five minutes to polish my toes. Overall I'd been upstairs for twenty-five minutes. I was panicking, thinking that he probably left, as I flew down the stairs.

But, of course I worried for nothing because there he was leaning against a tree, arms crossed as I slipped back out of the dorm. 

His eyes raked over me and then back to my face, making me blush.

Negan's smile was soft and warm. “Fuckin' thought you had decided to stand me up.”

I shook my head rapidly. “I would never...”

He pushed himself off the tree and fell in step beside me. “You look very pretty.”

A rush of giddiness made my stride a little lighter and my heart beat a little faster. Though, I didn't know what to say so I just looked at the ground, biting my lips.

“So, where to, Meghan? I'm sure you know this place better than I do.”

I glanced up at him. “Um. Are you allergic to peanuts?”

He snorted. “Fuck no.”

“Okay. Well we could go to Five Guys. It's pretty good.”

And expensive. I had exactly ten dollars in my pocket. That was enough to get me a small soda and a small cheeseburger. It was all the money I had until my federal aid kicked in. If my federal aid kicked in. If it didn't well, I didn't know what I would do. But I pushed that worry out of my head and concentrated on worrying about the date ahead.

We were quiet on the walk over, me trapped in my own swirling self-doubt and him with his easy swagger. He was a perfect gentleman, holding the door for me, letting me go first. All the chivalrous things. 

I ordered my food, but before I could pay Negan was ordering and then handing her a twenty. Well, shit if I had known he was paying I would had gotten a bigger soda. 

Once we'd picked up our food and gotten situated at a table in the middle of the noisy restaurant Negan smiled up at me. “So, doll, what do you do for fun?”

What did guys think girls did? I searched my brain, but I was coming up with nothing. “Um....I...”

“What, you don't like having fun?” 

I flushed and looked down at my food as I chewed on my lip.

“Hey.”

I glanced up at him to find him staring at my face. His expression was soft but firm.

“You don't have to be shy or self-conscious or anything. I don't fucking bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

I couldn't help but giggle and shrug. “I just...I don't know how to say it without sounding weird or crazy or whatever. I don't know what guys like to think girls do.”

He watched me closely and shook his head. “Guys your age are fucking assholes, doll. Don't ever let anyone tell you what you think is weird. You should be proud of that shit.”

A small smile formed on my lips. And then it was as if I had verbal diarrhea. It came hard and fast. “I like to read, listen to music, watch movies, go for walks, animals, video games, and I like to bake.”

I stopped when I realized he was staring at me with a raised brow. At that moment I had thought I scared him off. So I looked down at my food and popped a single fry into my mouth. Holy shit I was embarrassing the fuck out of myself.

He cleared his throat. “So were you the baker of the fucking vegan cupcakes?”

I coughed and spluttered, half offended. “Noooooo, are you kidding? Claire made those...atrocities.”

He laughed, maybe with a hint of relief? So I smiled and looked up at him through my lashes. God, he was gorgeous. That smile, those eyes, even his strong jaw made me weak in the knees. And his laughter sent tingles down my body.

“My cupcakes are 100% non-vegan.”

He grinned, a long, slow languid grin that built a fire in me. One I never knew I had. 

Negan dragged his tongue across his lower lip. “I'd like to eat...one of...your non-vegan cupcakes...doll." 

I almost melted into the floor. I didn't know what to say or do. It was the first time in my life any man had shown a real interest in me. Again I wondered if he just thought I was going to be an easy fuck, which made me sad. My eyes fell back to my food. Why couldn't I just enjoy this stuff?

I looked back to him and briefly wondered what it would feel like with his tongue in my mouth, my body pressed to his. And then I wondered if that what he was thinking about me. And again, I almost melted. I had to press my lips together to stifle my giggles.

Negan grabbed his drink and the ice sloshed as he swirled it around. “Do you play pool?”

I shook my head. “I've never played.”

He smiled. “Want to learn? I'm pretty good at it.”

I shrugged with a smile. “Sure, I'd like that.”

Negan gestured outside. “Let's go.”

I opened and closed my mouth several times. “Now?”

He laughed. “Fuck yeah, now.”

 

“You're holding the fucking stick all wrong, doll.”

My stupid heart fluttered. Doll? Had he called me that before? I frowned up at him and wrinkled my nose in his direction. Negan stood there laughing at me as I missed the white ball completely. I could feel my face going red. Just as red as the striped ball I'd been trying to hit. At that moment, I wanted to cry.

He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around about me. I felt the heat of his body being absorbed into my own and I worked on keeping my breathing even. He guided my arms and my hands into the proper positions and folded his big hands over mine. When I turned to look at him I could feel his stubble against my cheek. 

My brain was on overdrive. I'd never had a man hold me like this before. Never had one this close to me before. It was like my senses were going haywire. I could smell the mint on his breath mixing with his sweet smelling cologne. I could feel his warmth enveloping me. I could hear his ragged breaths in my ear. I tasted my own fear and my vision was slightly fuzzy even though I was stone cold sober.

I shivered when his whispering breath tickled my ear. “Like this.”

He swung the stick back and then crashed into the white ball. It propelled forward and spun into the solid red ball which flew into the pocket with ease. I'd been too busy feeling the hard muscles of his chest and belly pressing into my back to notice that he was solids and I was stripes.

I tilted my face back again, brushing against his almost beard. “Hey! You cheated!”

He laughed in my ear. “It was my turn. You missed the white ball completely. That means it's my turn. Now, think you can do it on your own or do you want me to help you a little more?”

Oh help, yes, definitely help. But my brain and my mouth were at a disconnect because for some stupid fucking reason I sniffed and said, “No, no. I think I can manage.”

But it earned me one of his dimpled smiles, so I sashayed over to the other side of the table and bent over to line up my shot. I glanced up to see him leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed over his chest, just surveying me with the tiniest of smirks on his face.

What I didn't realize at the time, he wasn't really paying attention to my shot. Nope he was staring directly at my tits hanging out of my shirt. But my oblivious nineteen year old self didn't even think of that.

And it went on like that for hours. We didn't talk about much except the finesse of pool. Which actually loosened me up quite a bit as he explained the technical rules to me and how and why they were bullshit. I laughed a lot and he told me he liked my laugh. Of course I only giggled more at that and he smiled wider.

I liked him. I liked his broad shoulders, his good humor, his swagger. And I really liked his profane mouth. The longer the night went on, the worse it got, which only served to amuse my sheltered self. He made it seem like an art form.

He was smart and funny. He was a gym dick, of course. He was everything I wanted in a man. For a fleeting moment I wondered if I'd met my soulmate.

 

It was 2am when he walked me to my dorm. The night had turned chilly and we were both shivering, our breaths coming out in white puffs. I guess we didn't realize that fall was around the corner. I stood at the door expectantly and smiled my shy, sweet smile.

He grinned down at me. “I had a good time, doll.”

A nervous giggle escaped my mouth. “Me too.”

“I enjoyed kicking your ass billiards style.”

More giggling. “Of course you did. Show off.”

He laughed and I shivered from excitement.

I tilted my head back, my heart pounding as I waited for him to lean down. I wanted his lips against mine so bad I could almost taste the mint on his breath. 

But he only smiled. “Goodnight, doll.”

The smile on my face faded as he walked away.


	4. The Kiss

Claire and Ana, my dormmates were both asleep when I crept into the room. I undressed as quietly as possible and got into bed. In my head I was going over every little detail of the date. Where had I gone wrong? So wrong that he didn't set up another date and he didn't kiss me. Why didn't he at least try to kiss me? He didn't seem like the type to not. What was wrong with me?

It was a good two hours before I fell asleep. Only to be rudely awakened by Claire and Ana arguing at seven in the fucking morning. Frankly, I couldn't have cared less about what they were arguing about, but the fact that they had to do it in the dorm at the fucking ass crack of the morning, on a Sunday no less, annoyed the living shit out of me. So I threw one of my pillows in their general direction. 

Ana's grunt told me it hit her. Good. She was usually the main instigator.

But Claire bounced over and thumped herself on my bed. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, but neither of them would let me sleep.

“How'd it go?” Claire asked as she yanked the blankets away from me.

I just looked at her.

“That well, huh?”

“What's going on?” Ana asked, her argument with Claire forgotten as she kicked over a chair.

Great, girls morning. Fuck that noise. I tried to roll over but Claire leaned over and gave me a wet willy and shrieked with laughter when I sat up and attempted to smack her.

“Meggy had a daaaaate. With some creepy dude.”

Ana raised her perfect brows. “A date? Go on.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed my tangled hair from my face. “Just some guy who hit on me at the cupcake stand.”

Ana's blue eyes said, that poor bastard. But she nodded eagerly.

“He was a fucking creep. Had to be like 30 something,” Claire interjected. “He was with a bunch of the stupid high schoolers basketball league thingie. I don't know the assholes with the jerseys who bounce the balls into stupid hoops that no one can reach.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “I take it that it didn't go too well?”

“I don't know. I thought it was going fine. And then he dropped me off here and he didn't...he didn't kiss me.”

“Oh, Meghan, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Some guys are just gentlemanly and don't kiss until the second or third date.”

Claire snorted. “I don't know, most guys would have made a move, yanno? All of them are just chasing after the goods.”

“Claire! Not helpful!”

“Don't worry Ana, it doesn't matter. Probably my fault. I didn't ask him a lot of questions,” I muttered as I picked at the blankets on the bed.

Ana crossed one leg primly over the other. “Meghan...”

“Did you go full retard again, Meggy?”

My mouth tightened. “Thanks Claire. Very helpful.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Hey, I'm just saying, you gotta loosen up. Get out of your shell. Get playful. Stop shutting down. Not everyone is out to get you.”

I didn't answer her as I continued to avoid their stares and to pick at the blankets. Ana reached over and patted my hand awkwardly. 

I wished I could be more like Ana with her perfect nails and perfect hair and perfect looks. Ana was always well put together, even in the midst of sleep. Ana was everything I was not. I was jealous of her, but I still liked her. Though, I'm pretty sure I annoyed the living shit out of her. Just as I annoyed everyone else.

Claire cleared her throat. “What murder factory did you two end up going to?”

I shrugged. “Five Guys.”

Claire sighed. “Meggggghhaaaaan.”

Whenever she was exasperated at me she always pronounced the extra 'h' in my name. Usually it made me laugh. Today, I just felt blah and tired.

“We should do something. Like go get manicures!”

I shook my head. “I only have like ten bucks until my aid kicks in.”

“Your mom being a cunt again?” Claire asked.

I glared at her. Claire and my mother had never gotten along. Well, anyone and my mother didn't tend to get along. Especially me. I was just never good enough.

“It's fine, I just have to be careful. I almost had a shit when I realized that Five Guys was so fucking expensive.”

“He paid, right?” Ana asked. Always big into chivalry, Ana was.

“Yeah, he did. And he paid for the pool table we played at Dustys.”

Claire grinned. “Look at you, playing pool. Getting new experiences, dating older men. We'll make a slut out of you yet, Meggy.”

I couldn't help but laugh at that. I was the farthest thing from a slut anyone could find.

“I know. Let's make you over. I'll cover you for now, if you take my shifts at the library,” Ana wheedled.

 

Somehow I'd let them talk me into getting a makeover. Waxing my eyebrows, giving me a mani and a pedi. The pedicure sucked. I had to try my best not to kick the nail technician. I hated having my feet touched.

Then a haircut that left my long, semi-dry hair hanging in gentle folds around my face. I almost felt pretty.

“We should pierce your--”

“--no!” Ana and I said at the same time.

Claire pouted. “You guys are no fun.”

Ana even bought me a new pair of jeans and a boat neck shirt with ruching on the sides. Very flattering. I looked at the price and nearly died, but Ana waved me off. Her family was loaded and she had Daddy's credit card.

We were in the middle of the food court when my cellphone buzzed. I waved it off, thinking it was my mother, but Claire being the dick she was snatched it from my purse and waved it at me.

“Looooook. It might be him! Answer it!”

I sucked my lip between my teeth. I hated the phone.

“If you don't I will.”

My heart was going nuts in my chest and I was frozen to my seat while Ana squealed next to me.

Finally Claire rolled her eyes and jerked the phone open. “Hello, you've reached Meghan Hunter's phone. Unfortunately she's gone full retard and can't answer because she's staring at me like a deer in headlights.”

My face went red when Claire grinned her knowing smile and Ana elbowed me.

“Sure, she's right here Negan!”

And Claire held the phone out for me and said rather loudly, “It's Negan and I think he wants to ask you out on a daaaaaate.”

Horrified I snatched the phone from her and cradled it to my ear as I started to walk from earshot. Behind me I could hear Ana admonishing Claire. “I hate it when you use the word retard. It's uncouth. You of all people...”

I took a deep breath and whispered into the receiver, “Hello?”

 

Ana and Claire pushed me into the dorm and got straight down to business.

“Her hair is perfect, her nails are perfect, she's got a great outfit.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Jewelry?”

We had exactly one hour. And oh boy did they try to glam me up. Jewelry, make up, heels, one of Ana's cute purses. They made me brush my teeth, comb my hair, brow powder, the works.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it!” Claire said with glee. I put my arm out and clotheslined her, throwing her back on the bed.

“No, you fuckers. Stay back. You're like a bunch of wild animals. You'll scare him off. Go do other stuff.”

I swallowed hard and opened the door a crack, sticking my head out. He leaned against the doorframe with his hair brushing his forehead and a grin on his face. He'd dressed up too, wearing a collared gray shirt and a pair of nicer slacks with polished shoes. 

“Hey doll. Ready?”

I nodded and slid out of the room, trying not to open the door too wide. We were silent for most of the way to the car. But he was a perfect gentleman, opening doors, again letting me go first.

When I settled myself in his car he looked over at me and grinned again. “You look fucking amazing, doll.”

I blushed and my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you. I like...the...I mean...you too.”

He chuckled and put the car in gear. “So, what about a movie and then dinner?”

I nodded. “Okay, sounds nice.”

“Got anything in mind?”

I shook my head. “Your pick. I picked last time.”

And of course the movie he picked was risque, at least to me. Well, I was so embarrassed at the time. The 40 Year Old Virgin. At the time it was the dirtiest movie I'd ever seen. Aside from porn, of course. And then seeing it with Negan made it worse. Thankfully the theater was dark, otherwise Negan would have laughed at me and my red, red face.

At one point I had to get up and go to the bathroom to calm my embarrassment down. Luckily, Negan hadn't seemed to notice. When I came back he'd moved the arm rest between us up and out of the way. I wondered if he was going to kiss me in the middle of the theater. The thought made me shiver visibly.

He leaned over. “You okay?”

I nodded and glanced at him. “Just chilly.”

He grinned down at me. “Well scoot over.”

And then he put his arm around me. None of the fake yawn, the suave slide crap. He just did it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. So I leaned into him, letting the smell of his cologne fill my nose.

When the movie was over we went to a little Mexican hole in the wall restaurant. I was too shy to tell him I hated Mexican food. But I tried to be a good sport and eat it anyway.

He glanced up from his fajita's. “So, dollface, what are you studying?”

I pushed whatever it was around on my plate. “I haven't decided yet. Um...what about you...I mean, what do you do for a living?”

Dumb question. Obviously he was a coach.

But he smiled at me as he sipped his beer. “Gym teacher. Basketball coach. Whatever kind of fucking coach.”

I didn't know what to say to that so I plastered a smile on my face and nodded.

For me the silence that followed was awkward. For Negan, it definitely wasn't. He had one eye trained on the football game on TV. Which in retrospect seems kind of rude, but it helped put me at ease. 

I wiped my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans and glanced over at the lake and the pier. The same part of my brain that wondered what was wrong with kissing me earlier was wondering why he'd bothered with a second date. I was clearly socially inept and silly and flighty. I didn't have many hobbies. I didn't do much of anything. I wasn't much of anything really.

I looked down at my hands in my lap, chewing on my lip.

“Hey, doll. You okay?”

I glanced back up at him and opened and closed my mouth several times. Nothing would come out. At that point I truly wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Boy did his beer look appealing to me. I'd never had a drink before, but damn if it wasn't tempting.

His hazel eyes searched my face and I couldn't hold his gaze. 

He reached over and tilted my chin up. “Hey, I get it. You're fucking nervous. It's okay. To be honest...I'm a bit nervous too.”

I snorted before I could help myself, but he smiled at me, dimples and all.

“You're not nervous.”

He laughed and his thumb stroked my cheek. “Well, no not fucking really, but I can pretend if it'll make you come out of your fucking shell.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just don't know how to do this. Any of this. I'm terrible at small talk. Terrible at all the get to know you questions. I'm...I'd like to say not much of a talker but that's not true either. I just like to observe sometimes.”

“Observe?”

I nodded. “You favor your left leg when you stand. You do this thing with your lips when you're trying to make a shot at pool. You like sports. You like kids. You're a careful driver...Your favorite word is the same as mine. For me that's my getting to know you conversation. It's noticing the stupid things...”

I wanted to shut my eyes but he tilted his head to the side. He watched me for a moment and then he smiled again.

“I like that about you. Small talk is fucking stupid. And I'm guessing your favorite word is fuck?”

I chewed on my lip and Claire's words rang through my head. Not everyone was out to get me. Get out of my shell...

“You're fucking right that fuck is my favorite fucking word.”

He threw his head back and laughed. Several tables turned to stare at us and I covered my mouth with my hand, my shoulders quaking with laughter.

The more we chatted, the more I came to like him. Not just because he asked me out, or he was a guy who showed interest in me, but I liked his sense of humor, I liked the way he tried to put me at ease. I especially liked the way he acted all big and jokingly tough around me. I liked his self-assurance. What I lacked and desperately wanted. He moved through the world knowing exactly who he was and as if the world should get out of his way. I liked the way he put his hand possessively on my back when he walked me out the door of the restaurant and I especially loved it when he guided me to the railed pier and when we stood side by side in silence, staring out at the lake.

The moon shimmered on the lake's dark waters as I stared dreamily across its surface. Negan leaned over the railing, his arm pressed against mine, making my heart jumpy. The air blew cool across our faces, but his closeness kept me warm. 

When I felt his gaze locked on to me I glanced up and a brief smile formed on my lips. He reached across my body with his left hand and tucked my hair behind my right ear. His fingers grasped one of my dangling earrings and he played with it, still looking into my eyes. My stomach bubbled and bounced with anticipation and anxiety.

He twirled the earring around his index finger and he smiled a slow, sexy, knowing smile. One that made my knees weak enough that I had to grip the railing for support. I held the gaze of this man, this hungry wolf, leering at me as if I were dinner. 

And then, being myself, I ruined it. I started giggling so hard I had to bury my face into my arm. But the more I struggled to stop the more the laughter came on, until my entire body was pressed against his and shaking with it. 

He was a good sport, sliding his arm around my shoulders and trapping me between his big, masculine self and the cold railing. His chest and belly were flush with my shoulders and back and my hips leaned into the railing. My giggling ceased as I realized exactly how close he was. His breath tickled my neck as he curled his lip at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his white, straight teeth flashing as his grin widened.

He nuzzled my neck and I sighed as his warm breath puffed over my cheek. Then he nuzzled my jaw. And again. I realized that he wanted me to turn my head and I swallowed hard, my heart hammering and my own breathing becoming rapid and uneven. I leaned back into his broad chest as I twisted my face up and to the side.

The twinkling mirth in his eyes had faded, replaced by the hungry wolf. He held my gaze, letting the sparks fly between us. Oh the sparks. It was as if every nerve ending, every fiber of my body was alive and radiating with need and want. There were goosebumps raised on my arms, my knees threatened to buckle and my lips tingled from the nearness of his own.

As Negan bent forward, my eyes fluttered closed. Shutting out the cold, the noise, everything but him and myself. At that moment we were the only two beings at the lake. 

My toes curled in Claire's borrowed shoes as I felt him come down closer and closer. His lips stroked over mine, so soft and so gentle, I didn't even realize he was kissing me at first. As his mouth came down on mine, harder and harder, I felt a switch flip in my brain, moving from anxiety to pure instinct. I coiled my fingers around the nape of his neck and moved my lips in time with the slow rhythm he played. 

There was no longer a chill in the air, his lips sending a warmth throughout my body that I hadn't realized existed. I tingled from the tips of my toes to the top of my scalp and everywhere in between. At that moment I couldn't think, I couldn't over-analyze. At that moment, for the first time in my life I just was.

Only...the kiss ended almost as soon as it started. He broke off with his forehead against mine and his breath purled over my neck. Goosebumps popped up along my bare arms and I shivered. My fingers still rested at the nape of his neck, just at the hairline. Caught up in the daze of his kiss I still didn't open my eyes as I propped myself against the hard wall of his body. 

He grunted in my ear, breaking my trance. “Fuck.”

I opened my eyes and squinted up at him. “Mmm?”

“It's fucking 2a.m...again. Fuck.”

I came crashing down to earth. Back into my awkward self. And now I felt shyer than ever, feeling my cheeks turning red. I turned my face into my shoulder so he wouldn't notice, but he didn't seem to be paying me any attention, instead frowning at his watch.

His hands moved from the railing to my hips and he gently turned me to face him. I stared hard at the ground, once again trying to regulate my breathing and the trembling going on inside my body. Adrenaline crash.

He put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face upwards. The way he looked at me made me want to melt into his arms. 

“You're so fucking cute when you're shy, doll.” 

I sucked my lip between my teeth and just stared at him. I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say. My mind raced trying to find the right thing to do in that moment. 

He tucked my hair behind my ears with both hands. I squirmed when they came to grip my waist firmly, pulling me belly to belly with him. I panicked, not knowing what to do with my hands before haphazardly putting my palms against his chest. I was relieved to find his heart pounded just as hard as mine.

Again he put his forehead on mine. And when he spoke he was practically growling. “I guess I have to take you home.”

My voice was barely above a whisper. “But I don't want to go home.”

Negan's hands slid down my waist to cup my hips again. He bent over and nuzzled his face into my neck. “Me either. But I've got a fucking meeting in the morning, doll. I need to at least fucking attempt to sleep.”

A smile curved my lips upwards. “Attempt?”

“Going to be next to fucking impossible with you on my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else get the Here's Negan part 3 yet? When I read it, I was super, super excited because it totally fit within my plans. We still don't know the name of his wife. Gaaah! But anyway, yay. Don't forget to kudos, comment, subscribe, bookmark. Also check out my other work: The Price We Pay.  
> Thanks guys, you're the best!


	5. Sweet Surrender

I didn't have time to worry about Negan and his wife, because the day after my thirtieth birthday, work imploded. One of the cases we'd been working on for months fell apart and because of that there was an inquiry in the cold case department. Starting with my boss, then me, then my teammates. Sometimes being second in charge sucked.

For the next two and a half weeks I was working sixteen hour days. I would come home feed Strawberry and Ginger and then fall into bed. Rinse, repeat. In that time Negan didn't call me, didn't text me and he didn't come over.

Truth be told, I was almost glad for the inquiry because it kept my mind busy and my focus elsewhere. If it hadn't I would have spent those two weeks obsessing over the fact that he hadn't bothered to contact me. I couldn't think about him choosing her over me, if it was the end of what we had.

Things had been strained between us since The Baby Incident six months ago. And now his wife's cancer. Had I been able to think properly, I would have been devastated. 

My boss, my partner, our team, all of us were running on fumes and coffee. I'd lost at least five pounds of stress alone. If Negan had been there he would have been pissed to see that I picked up smoking again. But it was better than the alternative of falling apart or blowing up. We were all frustrated, all of our cases were put on hold as another team came in. It was just a mess.

In the meantime my car decided to break down, the dog got sick, my sink broke. An overly shit month, and I had nothing left over for emotions, thank god. Compartmentalize. Put everything into its neat little box and set that shit on fire.

Normally I would have Negan fix the car and the sink, but being the passive-aggressive bitch that I am, I let the professionals do the job.

Honestly, I probably could have called him first. Could have messaged him. Could have done something. But I was feeling insecure and petty. And slightly old fashioned. Oh, and don't forget hurt. He'd fucked up my birthday. I'd turned down concert tickets to see Darius Rucker to go to dinner with that fucker. Darius Rucker and his smooth velvety voice. Asshole. And I pushed down the reminders of his wife's cancer. Didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to think about the consequences.

Finally, one Friday afternoon they declared the departmental investigation over and allowed us to go home for an early weekend. Early weekend my ass. Once again I stumbled into my house fed the dog and the cat, shoved my Sig into the safe and fell face first into bed without bothering to undress.

I awoke to hands stroking down my back and over my backside. Teeth nipped at my ear as the hands continued to circle. I could feel a heavy weight on my upper thighs, as if someone were sitting on them. The hands curved up my back and then around to my ribs, where they came to cup my breasts from the side. In my heavy haze I could feel warm breath on the back of my neck and I could smell beer. Lots and lots of beer. Beer and the faint familiar scent of acqua di gio. 

My muscles tightened in fear as my heart raced, even before I knew something was wrong. I couldn't make sense of anything, aside from the fact that it wasn't the dog on top of me.

I blinked in the dark, trying to piece together what was going on. Squinting, I could make out a lingering dark form hovering over my body. A large, hulking man. Negan. Of course. Who else would it be?

My first emotion wasn't relief or happiness. No, I was pissy. For the first night in weeks I had been getting a decent amount of sleep and he fucking ruined it. Asshole! All I wanted to do was sleep.

Being the bitch that I am, I elbowed him right in the gut. I heard him grunt and felt him roll off me.

He panted as he rubbed his ribs. “The fuck was that for?”

I rolled on my side away from him. “I couldn't breathe.”

“Bullshit.”

Well, duh. 

I leaned over and snapped on the light. I was shocked to find that he looked like hammered shit. Not just because he was drunk off his ass, but because of the lines in his face, the ashen sheen of his skin and the dark smudges under his eyes.

Looking at his unshaven, droopy face made it hard for me to be angry with him. I sighed and smoothed his hair off his forehead. He turned his head and nuzzled into my open palm.

I cleared my throat. “I miss you.”

He grunted. “Sorry. You could have called.”

I frowned, but brushed off his comment. “Don't be. Been under investigation at work, so...been busy.”

Negan looked up and me and shook his head. “You suck at being selfless, you know that, doll?”

I pulled my hand away from his face. “Wow. Ever the fucking charmer.”

He grabbed my wrist. “Don't get your butt plug all twisted, dollface. I don't like selfless, you know that.”

I glared at him. “You're the one who lost the butt plug in the first place.”

He laughed and yanked me down on top of him. Part of me wanted to push away, but the other half of me longed for him. So I let him kiss me. Let him work my lips apart. Let him wriggle his tongue between them. Let my own tongue rise to meet his. All the while he combed his fingers through my hair. Just the way I liked. Asshole. He had me there and he fucking knew it. And he relished in it.

I savored his kiss. Soft, tender, loving. Everything I'd wanted on my birthday. Better tardy than never, I suppose.

He rose to a sitting position, bringing me along with him as his lips moved over mine. He knew how much I loved simple kissing. Almost more than love making. He tugged at the hem of my rumpled silky shirt and I obediently lifted my arms. He grunted in approval as he slowly slid the smooth fabric over the delicate skin of my belly and over my breasts and up and over my head. It fluttered to the floor as Negan jerked his own t-shirt from his body.

I smiled at him as I rubbed my fingers over the hardened muscles on his torso. Eleven years and he hadn't gotten soft. He had a few more lines on his face, but then again, so did I. He was still as handsome as the day I met him and that fucker could still make me giggle like a school girl.

“I love it when you look at me like that, doll.”

I tilted my head to the side and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Like what, my own love?”

“Like you fucking want my tongue between your thighs.”

My face split into a slow, knowing grin. “You do owe me. Big time.”

He wagged his tongue at me and I felt the fire plunge from my heart straight down. My cheeks flushed red, but not with embarrassment. I wanted him. And from the glimmer in his eyes, he fucking knew it.

And we came together both kneeling, half pressed against each in a flurry of hands yanking and pulling and clothes flying and floating to the floor. 

His lips were at my neck and his hands found my breasts. “I fucking want you. I need you. I need to be inside of you. I fucking ache for you. It's been so long since we've fucking made love.”

My heart skipped a beat and I giggled. My giggles made him laugh and he kissed me again.

“Want you so bad. Need to feel you wrapped around me.”

Oh he wanted me alright. I could feel exactly how much against my belly through his boxer briefs. He sat back and pulled me back into his lap. 

I turned my face for another kiss and he growled at me, capturing my lips. 

“What do you want?” I whispered into his mouth.

“You.”

“You know what I mean, Negan.”

He squeezed my backside, pushing my groin against his. “Fuck...I want...”

I was about to ask again when he flipped me over and propped me against the headboard. 

He nipped my neck and put my hands along the wooden top. “Don't lower your arms. Stay right the fuck there, just like that.”

I sucked my upper lip in, feeling awfully exposed as he raked his stare down my body. He stopped to take in my breasts and then again to look between my legs. Out of habit I opened them further not only to give him a better look, but to invite him in.

And then he began to torment me. Biting and nipping and suckling. Bringing out my inner slut as he licked and stroked my skin, avoiding my breasts and what I freely offered him. I whimpered as he dragged his tongue up my tummy and between my breasts, only stopping for a brief kiss. A brief and sloppy kiss with lots of tongue.

I started to uncurl my fingers from the headboard with every intention of pushing him down, but he stopped and covered my hands with his own. 

“I fucking told you not to move your arms. I'm going to have to punish you, slut...Don't look so happy, I don't think you're going to like it.”

Of course I would like it. I always loved it when Negan punished me.

He gave me a final kiss and rolled away. 

I whistled at the great view of his ass. “Take it off, baby.”

“Later, doll.”

He made me wait for what felt like eternity. The pounding between my legs only grew and grew. It matched the thumping of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears. I shifted, still holding onto the goddamned headboard like an idiot. But he wouldn't punish me if I let go, no matter how much my arms ached in that position.

I nearly shrieked when he came back with my cashmere scarf and my hairbrush.

“You gonna fuck me with that?”

He laughed. “It's a fucking surprise, dollface.”

I watched him, a little warily as he sat down next to me. He glanced at me, a single brow raised ever so slightly.

I leaned as far forward as I could and nuzzled him. I whispered into his ear, “Green fucking light.”

He tossed the scarf and brush between my knees and caught my mouth for a gentle kiss. His lips caressed mine as he cupped my face between his hands. My heart fluttered as if it were the first time he was kissing me.

And then that fucker blindfolded me. We had a code. A safe word. Well, several. Green light meant absolutely. Yellow light meant someone was unsure. Red light meant stop. Black light meant hell to the mother fucking no.

He'd only used black light on me once and we rarely used red light.

Obviously I couldn't see him. But I could feel his weight on the bed still. Felt the skin of his leg pressed against mine, felt his hand on the bed near my other hip, felt his lips against the swell of my breast. I licked my lips and sighed as he cupped the other one in his right hand.

“Negan,” I moaned as his tongue flicked over my nipple.

Something cold and hard rubbed across my knee. The hairbrush? I shivered as he ran the back of it up my thigh.

“Open your fucking legs,” Negan growled from below. Of course I obeyed.

Smack! I cried out as he swatted the bristles against my inner thigh. Smack! Against the other one.

“For a slut, your thighs aren't fucking red enough. You haven't been fucked enough, have you?”

I whimpered as he dragged the scratchy bristles up between my thighs.

“But we're only just getting started, isn't that fucking right doll?”


	6. Rock Your World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally over my little hump of this funk I've been in for the past weekish or so. It's really good to be back writing. Also, I just started the prequel for Nayna's original story. Called Back to Before. Check it out when you get a chance.   
> And please don't forget to kudos, comment, subscribe, bookmark, etc. It's all appreciated!

I stood behind the batters cage watching Negan's incredible batting skills. Standing off to the side I could study his face unobtrusively. The frown lines, the wrinkles on his forehead, the squint of his normally merry hazel eyes and the pinching of his kissable mouth. 

THOWK! The baseball flew across the cage into the netting. Again and again and again. He did not miss, nor did he hesitate. Something in the way he smashed the bat...But then again he was a high school coach, a gym teacher.

When he'd hit the last ball he turned to me with a swaggering smile as he sauntered over to me. I laughed as he leaned forward, knocking his cap off. He puckered his lips, making stupid kissy noises at me, making me giggle as I stood on tip-toe to kiss him through the fence.

It was our sixth date. As Claire said, things were getting pretty serious. Though, it was hard to take anything Negan did seriously. Or maybe I was trying not to take myself so seriously.

He yanked the door open and grinned out at me. “Want to try?”

I snorted and ducked under his arm. “I'm not going to try. I'm going to out hit you.”

He let out a bark of laughter and slapped my ass as I passed by. “Fuckin doubt it, dollface.”

I froze and glanced at him over my shoulder. Though my rump stung, it wasn't unpleasant in the least and if my cheeks were to be believed, I even liked it. 

“What?”

I snatched the bat out of his hand and smiled as sweet as pie. “Nothing, love.”

“You're fucking holding it like a monkey with a stick.”

“What?” I laughed as he came up behind me.

Negan positioned my hands on the bat, one atop the other. “You hold it like this.”

I smiled to myself. I knew how to hold a bat, but I liked the way Negan stood behind me and leaned over me. I liked how my body fit neatly against his. How he could wrap his hands around mine with his fingers and his thumb touching. 

His chin jutted over my shoulder. We were nearly cheek to cheek as he twisted my hands, aligning my knuckles. I made a face.

He laughed. “I know it fucking feels weird, but fucking trust me, doll.”

“Of course I trust you.”

He nipped my earlobe and I shivered as his hands roamed down my waist and cupped my hips. Instinctively I attempted to suck in my stomach, but Negan paid no mind as he twisted my body and pulled my hips down.

“You wanna bend your knees slightly, like this and then stand a shoulder width apart....No further—here.”

He bumped his knees into mine and nudged my feet apart with his. My insides squirmed at the close contact. 

“Now when the ball comes--”

“--Negan.”

He perched his head on my shoulder. “Mm?”

I grinned. “Shut the fuck up and let me bat.”

“Someone is getting fucking cocky,” he growled in my ear. I laughed as he squeezed my hips and walked over to the coin dispenser.

“I know, you should probably stop. I hear getting beat by a girl is fucking insulting,” I whispered loudly.

He snorted and clicked the dial in place. “Alright, bat away.”

I smirked at him and bent down just like he showed me. I was getting ready to swing at the first pitch when Negan said casually, “Anyone ever told you that you have a fucking dimple in your right ass cheek?”

I swung too late and missed. I gave him the finger making him laugh.

“Why are you looking at my ass?”

He grinned, shaking his head at me. “What kind of fucking question is that? Of course I'm looking at your ass. And down your shirt too. Dunno if you noticed, but I'm rather fucking tall and you're about as small as a fucking smurf. Your collection of bras is very sexy by the way. I like the purple one with the little gold bows.”

A ball passed by, but I was too distracted by Negan to hit it. I glanced down at the gap in my shirt, catching a glimpse of the bows. Another ball flew past. Then I squinted at him as I thinned out my lips. “I'm not a smurf.”

“You're missing an awful lot of balls.”

I grinned. “Only two.”

Negan made an odd choking noise as I turned back to the pitching machine and hit the next incoming ball.

“Fucking hell, woman.”

I laughed and hit the next ball. And the next. Until the machine was completely wiped.

I turned back to Negan and stuck out my tongue. “See, I told you.”

He sauntered over and slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Where'd you learn to bat like that, doll?”

I shrugged as I leaned the bat against the wire fence. “I'm really good at hand-eye-coordination. I suck at pitching. Really good at catching.”

“That's fucking unexpected.”

My smile faded. I glanced up at him, not sure if he was saying he was surprised because I was a girl or if it was because I was fat. But his gaze was glued to my cleavage. Even as anxious as I was, it still sent a thrill racing through my blood.

I slapped his hard belly. Mostly for the excuse to feel his muscles. 

He grinned and bent down to kiss me. “Gotta go piss.”

“You're gross.”

Negan nipped my lower lip. “Mr. Fucking Gross to you, dollface.”

I leaned back against the wire mesh, smiling as he walked away. A giggle escaped my lips as I traced my fingers idly over the fence. I'd never felt that way about anyone before. Giddiness and anxiety all rolled into one big flutter in my stomach. 

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I sighed. I hated the phone. Looking at the screen I nearly groaned. My mother. There was just no way. I hastily stuffed the phone back into my pocket and grinned up at Negan emerging from the bathroom.

“Who was it?”

I shook my head. “No one. I'm not taking phone calls right now. I'm all yours for the rest of the day.”

His face twitched in a manner I didn't like, but he put on a twisted grin as his hands cupped my shoulders. “I got a hotel room. I'm all yours for the rest of the weekend, dollface. I say we head back that way.”

A flush overtook my face and Negan's grin grew wider as he stared down at me with glittering eyes. I pressed my cheek to my shoulder as I willed my heart to stop pounding. A hotel room. That meant sex. Which meant getting naked in front of the tall, bulky man standing next to me. I glanced down at my flabby gut and winced. My heart and body wanted it more than anything, but my mind said no fucking way. 

If only I wasn't so fat...

Negan's hand cupped the side of my face, running down my neck and over my throat. I swallowed out of reflex and he smiled. “What do you fucking say?”

“I..um...”

He stepped towards me, close enough to throw me off and make me take a step back. He walked me all the way back until the mesh cage dug into my back. We stood belly to belly, my arms about his neck, my face pressing into his chest. I inhaled his warm, familiar scent. How could I tell him that I'd never done it before? I felt entirely stupid.

He pressed his lips against my ear. “I fucking want you so bad, doll.”

Of course my body responded to the purling wisp of breath wafting over my cheek and down the exposed skin of my neck. I wanted him. My body wanted him. But would he want me? 

He planted several small kisses just below my ear and above my jawline. I gasped as he nipped and dragged his teeth towards my chin. The stubble on his upper lip grazed erotically against my skin. He nudged my face to the side, allowing his tongue to trace little circles down the side of my throat.

He was driving me fucking crazy. I knew it by the way my fingers crumpled his shirt. By the way my hips seemed to move against his.

I sucked my lip in between my teeth even as I stroked the nape of his neck. 

“Dollface...” he whispered, blowing his cool breath over the hot wet patch he'd left at my throat. “What do you think?”

I froze as he kissed along my collarbone. I didn't know what to say. So of course I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “I'm a virgin.”

Negan pulled back and considered me carefully. His eyes searched my face and I drew back ever so slightly. Then he smiled that slow, sexy smile that made me want to melt. He smeared a thumb across my lip, dragging it along and then letting it snap back. The lust in his eyes made my body tingle. He leaned down to capture my lips with his.

I let him slip his tongue in my mouth, even though we were in public and I wasn't a fan of PDA. I couldn't have stopped him even if I had wanted to. It was as if my body had taken over as I moved my lips over his and as my tongue rose up to glide along his.

“Come back with me,” he muttered against my lips.

His hands moved up my waist to my ribcage, stopping just under my breasts, which were heaving with the heat of the moment. Fuck I wanted him to touch me, but I didn't. I wanted to run away and hide. Flashes of words whizzed through my mind: fat, ugly, stupid.

I swallowed. “I don't know...”

Negan glanced around, making sure we were still alone. He curled one hand around my wrist and pressed my palm into the front of his jeans. I could feel him, stiff against my hand which made me bite my lips again. The twelve year old inside of me giggled at the sheer fact that I was touching a penis.

Which of course made me giggle in real life. I clapped my other hand over my mouth as I turned my face away. Of course I still gripped him by the front of his pants.

Negan cleared his throat. “You know doll, little Negan doesn't appreciate you laughing at him. Big Negan doesn't either. Little Negan is gonna fucking wilt over here in a minute if you don't stop laughing.”

I snorted. “I can't...help...it.”

Glancing up I saw the mixture of grimacing and amusement on his face. He didn't know whether to be offended or whether to laugh with me. 

“I've never touched one before!” I squealed, a little too loudly.

He put his fingers over my lips. “Come back to the hotel with me and you can touch him all you fucking want.”

I let my hand drop to my side. And then I shook my head.

His smile faded. “Why the fuck not? Am I not good enough for you?”

I looked up at him, surprised at his rapid mood change. “It's not you...”

“Yeah, yeah I've fucking heard that before.”

I placed my palm flat on his chest. “It's not like that, though.”

He stepped back surveying me coldly. “Am I just wasting my fucking time here?”

I looked at him incredulously. “Is that all I am to you? A piece of ass?”

“No, otherwise I wouldn't have wasted six fucking dates on you.”

“So it's a waste of time to date me.”

“Jesus fucking hellballs. Please, twist my words around.”

I blinked back tears and moved past him. “I'm going home.”

Behind me he grunted and grabbed my arm, spinning me to face him. “I do fucking like you, but sex is extremely fucking important to me. And if it's not going to happen between us, I don't want to...well there's no fucking better way to sugarcoat it. I don't want to waste your time, I don't want to waste mine.”

“I'm fat.”

“Fucking run that by me again?”

“I'm fat and...” I turned my head away, willing myself not to cry. “...ugly.”

“Yeah, fuck this. We need to have a little fucking chat. Jesus fuck,” he sighed. He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to the nearest bench. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down.

Negan's thumbs swiped the falling tears from my lashes as he bent to look me in the eye. “Look at me, doll. If I gave a fuck about your weight, you wouldn't be my girlfriend. And I don't know who the fuck ever told you that you were ugly, but they're fucking wrong.”

I swallowed and nodded. He jerked a hand back through his hair. “I don't know what the fuck you're doing here, but fucking stop it. You need to grow the fuck up, doll. The whole world isn't fucking against you. The world doesn't owe you anything. You have two fucking options right now. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself, crying on this bench or...come back to the hotel room with me, let fucking go and let me rock your fucking world in bed.”


	7. The First Time

Throughout the car ride I kept my gaze away from Negan's predatory stare. The intensity of his glittering eyes scared me shitless. My belly knotted and unknotted itself as I gripped the steering wheel with enough force to turn my knuckles white.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as he traced a finger along the slope of my neck. 

Licking my lips, I whispered, “Don't do that while I'm driving.”

He dropped his hand to my thigh and squeezed. “I just want to touch you, doll.”

I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know how I felt about him touching me. On one hand it felt good, so good. On the other it seemed wrong, though I had no idea why. No, I knew why. Because I was raised to believe sex wasn't enjoyable for women. 

With every touch, there were more than sparks. It was like a smoldering fire that brimmed beneath the surface of my skin, threatening to burst. 

I cleared my throat. “I'm going to drop you off at the hotel and then go back to my room and pack some stuff and I'll meet you there?”

“No.”

We had stopped at a light so I looked at him with raised brows. “I beg your pardon?”

“No, we're going back to your dorm together. I'm not fucking giving you the chance to R-U-N-N-O-F-T.”

Despite my annoyance I laughed. He raised a cocky brow at me, but grinned anyway.

I blew my bangs from my face. “Fine, but you wait in the car.”

“No.”

The light turned green. I pressed on the gas pedal as I shook my head. “I'll leave the engine running.”

“Still fucking no, doll.”

“Really? You don't trust me enough to fucking come back, but you trust me enough to stick your dick in me?”

Negan chuckled and draped his arm over the back of my seat. “Don't need a whole lot of fucking trust for that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I trust you, but I don't trust this,” he said, tapping my temple. “That will talk you out of anything, even—no especially if it's fucking fun. I know the way your little fucking mind operates.”

We pulled into the parking lot and I shut the engine off. He wrapped my ponytail around his hand and pulled back, exposing my throat.

The feeling of vulnerability, helplessness...it turned me on. More than I thought it should have. 

He leaned forward and licked from my clavicle upwards, stopping when he reached the underside of my chin. Then he dragged his bottom lip across until his mouth covered mine. 

His breath tickled my ear. “Ignore the voice. What do you what, Meghan? Do you want me inside of you? Do you want me to make love to you?”

My hands cupped his head, fingers buried in his hair, listening to his ragged breathing. And as if my body was working independently of my mind, I nodded.

“Fucking say it.”

I trembled and closed my eyes. “Yes. Yes, I want...”

He turned my face to his and I opened my eyes as he raised his brows. “What do you fucking want, Meghan?”

“You.”

He grinned and nipped my lip before jumping out of the car. Both my hands cupped the steering wheel as I panted, confused and aching. He was so damn sexy it almost spilled over. He was so sexy it almost made me feel sexy. Almost. I started when he opened my door and tugged me from the car.

We walked towards the dorm with me trembling from head to toe and him smirking triumphantly. He guided me along with a hand on the small of my back. 

Thankfully neither Ana nor Claire were in the room, so I was able to pack in semi-peace. Though I felt Negan's eyes on my backside the entire time I gathered my things.

He caught me around the middle and pulled me into his lap, kissing my neck. “Too many clothes.”

“Um...”

“Pack less. Toothbrush, shampoo, that kind of shit. You won't need clothes.”

A thrill ran up my body just as his hands did. I squirmed and he moaned lightly in my ear, sending more fire between my legs.

After extracting myself from his grasp I finished packing. He bitched about my laptop but I told him I had a paper to write for class. A paper...For World of Warcraft.

 

Anyway, somehow we made it to the hotel. He couldn't keep his hands off me in the elevator. His eyes and his lips said he wanted me. He kept rubbing my ribcage, just below my breasts. Almost as if he were trying to make sure I was still there.

All the while my heart drummed a rapid beat and my thoughts zoomed in and out of my mind, racing by far too fast for me to comprehend more than, oh my god, sex. 

As he let me into the hotel room, he growled in my ear. “I have an idea.”

I turned my head to look into his eyes. His sparkling, mischievous eyes. I cocked my head to the side and raised my brows ever so slightly.

He put his hands on my hips and pushed me into the room, kicking the door shut behind us. “Naked weekend.”

A breathy laugh escaped from my lips. “What?” 

“You. Me. Naked. All fucking weekend.”

I flushed and turned my face away. He simply reached around me and tipped my head towards him, brushing his lips across mine.

“I thought that was the plan?”

“Mm, yes. But...I'm stealing all your clothes, doll, and you can't have them back until Monday fucking morning.”

“What?”

He chuckled and peeled my jacket from my shoulders as he pressed a dry kiss to my ear. “I want you naked the whole weekend. But you won't be alone.”

“I don't...”

He reached forward and began to undo my jeans. “Look, doll, I want you to be comfortable around me. I don't want any of the shy shit. I want to fuck your brains out and I want you to enjoy it without thinking about me thinking about whatever you're feeling so fucking insecure about.”

I grabbed his wrists and tilted my head back to look up at him. “Okay. But...my way. Please.”

He cupped my throat and rubbed his thumb up and down. I shivered at the possessive gesture. He sighed. “Fine.”

I smiled at him and kissed his cheek. I grabbed the robe draped over the chair and disappeared into the bathroom with my grooming supplies.

It took me about twenty minutes in all to shave and shower and feel completely clean. I dried myself off, but didn't bother to dry my hair. 

I wrapped myself in Negan's robe and took a deep breath and stepped out. 

“Negan?”

“Here,” he called from around the corner, where the couch was.

I peered around and there he was, completely naked and very much erect. I froze, much like a deer in headlights, my eyes transfixed to...Little Negan. And then the giggles started.

“Doll...” he groaned.

“I can't help it! It's just staring at me.”

“Look, you're making him shrivel up.”

Which was only funnier to me. I buried my face in the sleeve of the robe as I shook with laughter.

I hear Negan shift and stand up. My heart beat faster with every step he took. When I looked up he was towering over me, unamused. I smoothed my hands over the robe as my stomach lurched.

“I'm sorry!”

He cocked his brows. “Take it off.”

I pulled the robe tighter around me and stood there, paralyzed with fear. He dragged his tongue over his lip as he slipped his hands underneath the top of the robe. His fingers brushed my collarbones. Surely he could feel my heart.

“No!” I squeaked. “My way.”

He bent down and whispered in my ear, “Not anymore. You laughed at Little Negan. Now it's either punishment or Little Negan gets his way.”

I tipped my head back to look him in the face. “Same fucking thing.”

His eyes twinkled. “Yes, they fucking are. Let me see your titties, doll.”

I stepped back from him, but he didn't follow me with anything more than his eyes, boring into mine. I lifted my chin as I ignored the panic in my throat. I had to do this or I would never do anything like this again. If I didn't do this I knew I would shut myself out of the world and feel lonely for the rest of my life. And I would regret it. I regretted so many things I didn't do. My trembling fingers untied the robe. I took in several deep breaths before I shrugged it open and allowed it to fall to the ground, leaving me cold, vulnerable before this huge wall of muscle before me.

He sucked in a deep breath. “Holy fucking shit.”

My face burned red. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? I was afraid to ask. I watched as his gaze dropped to my breasts, ran along the length of my torso and stopped between my thighs. And then back up again. He must have seen the fear in my eyes because he grinned at me.

“You're fucking beautiful, doll. Look, even Little Negan agrees.”

He grasped my wrist and wrapped my fingers around him. I bit down on my cheek to keep from laughing. It felt like nothing I'd imagined it would be. And yet, it was firm and solid. And to my virgin eyes it was a fucking monster.

Negan's fingers were still holding my wrist. “Like it?”

Like it? I looked up at him with parted lips, frozen to the spot as he leered down at me. He put his hands on my hips and guided me back to the bed. 

My thoughts were racing in my head, but I couldn't catch them. Fear and panic and desire and...love rushed through my brain. I pushed them all away in favor of the moment, letting go of him and wrapping my arms around his strong neck, pulling my body close to his.

He nuzzled me and gave me the sweetest kiss. I smiled against him, pressing myself even closer. I needed the comfort. Luckily he seemed to sense it and he moved his hands up and down my sides.

“I want you, doll. Want to fucking be close to you. Inside of you. Next to you. I want to fucking make love to you. I want you to fucking belong to me. Because after this, you will be mine.”

I pulled back, tilting my head to the side. “I thought I already was yours?”

“Mmm?”

I chewed my lip. “You called me your girlfriend.”

He chuckled. “Yes, but now I'm fucking claiming you.”

I shivered at the thought of being wanted and smiled sweetly at him and nodded. “I want this.”

He lay me softly down on the bed and sat by my hip. My hands were curled protectively against my chest. Oh god. He was going to touch me. And I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I let my knees fall to the sides and hoped he would look.

His gaze did flicker between my legs and he half-smiled as he turned his attention to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, jiggling them. He tugged at my nipples, rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers, traced his fingertips over them. He drove me crazy, made me want his touch so bad, I could taste it.

I expected him to climb on top of me. I didn't expect him to kiss down my belly. Actually it made me wince. I didn't want him anywhere near my wobbly bits. But he didn't seem to care as he trailed soft kisses down, down, down. Oh, oh he was going to...My cheeks went red and I opened my legs further without thinking about it.

Of course, he teased me, sliding his tongue across my inner thighs, down my legs. He nipped at my hipbones. Kissed my knee as he scraped the stubble up and down my thigh. I whimpered and lifted my hips in the air. He laughed and rested his chin directly on top of my mound.

“What're you doing?” I gasped.

His eyes danced as he slowly dragged his tongue along his lower lip. “Torturing you. Don't you fucking like it?”

I shook my head frantically. “No.”

He kissed my hip. “My poor baby.”

“Negan...”

I was acting like a whore. I knew it. On some level I was ashamed and shy, but the pleasure won out. It always won out. That and the fact that I truly wanted to belong...

He scooted further down, wrapping an arm around my leg possessively, opening me even wider. Then his fingers danced over my skin eliciting whimpers and sighs from me. Sounds I never knew I was capable of making. 

My eyes fluttered closed as I concentrated on his hands. They were all I knew. That was...until his tongue ran from the bottom of my slit to the top.

I snapped my head up to look at him in shock, but he laughed at me as he began to give me sweet, suckling kisses. He gave me deep kisses, with more than enough tongue, making me writhe my hips against him.

“Negan...”

He said nothing as he continued swirl and lick his way around, mapping me with each lap of his tongue. I grabbed the bedsheets when he hit the perfect spot, my body flying upwards to press into his mouth. He laughed, sending sweet vibrations along my lips.

I couldn't get enough of him, my moans turning low and throaty as he continued to tease and torment me before locking on and churning his tongue in swift, tight circles. Once again my hips left the bed, only this time I was groaning and spasming, having lost all control of my body as I came. He kept going past the point of orgasm until my legs were jerking. 

He held me close until I shrieked, “Stop, stop, too much.”

Negan lowered me down, his hands stroking my sides as I lay panting on the bed, wrapped in warmth. I closed my eyes with a smile on my face as he nuzzled my chest and ran his tongue down and back up my breasts. He moved over me and I could feel him pressing against my entrance. 

I wasn't ready, but I wanted it so bad. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted...I wanted him to love me. I willingly turned my face to him and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. It only made me feel closer to him. His hand came between us and he grasped one of my breasts, squeezing and taunting me as he rubbed up and down my wetness.

“Fuck,” he panted. “I fucking forgot to ask.”

“What?” I moaned as his thumb swept over my sensitive nipple.

“Birth control.”

“Pill,” I whispered catching his lips. “Please, Negan. Please.”

He rested on his elbows, mouth against mine, gently, ever so gently. I could feel the head of his erection swollen against my entrance, pressing, nudging. I whimpered into his mouth. I wanted it and yet I was afraid. Afraid of the pain, afraid that he would abandon me, afraid that I was making a mistake giving this part of myself to him. Would things remain the same between us? Would he break my heart? Or would I push him away?

“Doll,” he murmured, stroking my cheeks. “Where are you?”

My eyes snapped open and I looked into the mirror of lust before me. “Sorry.”

Negan nuzzled me. “Come back to me. I want you to feel everything.”

Oh, but I was feeling everything as he pushed inside of me. I clung to his shoulders, panting as he closed his eyes. It was the strangest feeling. Being stretched out to the point of bursting. I bit my lips as it began to sting, but he moved slowly. I glanced at his face, looming over mine and nearly giggled at the twisted expression he wore.

It was somewhere between surprise and pain. I reached up to smooth a hand over his furrowed brow when the stinging ache turned into a sharp stab. His eyes snapped opened when a strangled moan escaped my lips.

“Stop, stop,” I cried and pushed on his broad shoulders.

“Goddammit,” he growled, looking down at me with heavy lidded eyes.

I could feel myself pulling back from him as I twisted my head away. I couldn't even look at him. “I'm sorry, Negan. I can't...”

I whimpered again as he pulled back out, leaving me feeling empty. He tipped my face back to his, cupping my chin in his palm. I could read the annoyance in his eyes, but when he spoke it was with stilted patience as he swiped his thumb across my lips. “You can. You will. Fucking trust me, please.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He bent down and kissed me again, slipping his tongue into my mouth as he began to shift his way inside of me once more. My whole body tensed as I prepared for the pain. I must have had his shoulders in a death grip because he told me to relax as he kept inching his way inward. One of his hands roamed down my hip and up the outside my thigh. I tried to focus on his mouth and his hands, ignoring his gentle rhythm.

He rocked himself back and forth, working me open. It still hurt, but not quite as much as that first burst of pain. After a few minutes the ache turned into something else entirely and my hips came up to meet his every thrust.

Negan chuckled and whispered against my lips. “That's fucking right. I fucking told you to trust me.”

I tugged on his shoulders until his weight collapsed on me. “I want to feel all of you.”

I felt him smile against my neck as he reached back and draped my leg over his hip. He squeezed the fleshy part of my thigh as he drove into me and skimmed his hand upwards, fingertips tracing a long line from my hip to my breasts, which were smashed against his chest. He cupped what little breast was exposed and mumbled in appreciation.

He grunted every time his hips slapped against mine. I was sure I was going to be bruised by the end of the night. But I didn't care. All of this was going on and I didn't fucking care one iota. I wasn't thinking about my flabby stomach or my jiggling thighs. No, I was thinking about how good it felt to be full, to feel his body against mine, to feel...wanted. Even if it was just because I was a warm body, at least it was my warm body he wanted.

I was so lost in the throes of passion, I didn't notice myself seeking out his lips until my tongue touched his. He groaned as I dragged my nails down his back, squeezing him with my leg. 

His panting and moaning only served to make me want him more. Wanting to orgasm again. To get the same feeling he'd given me earlier. My fingers snaked between us and I began to touch myself. To soothe the hungry ache deep inside.

Negan pulled back and glanced down. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Keep going,” I whined. “I need to come again. Can't do it if you've stopped.”

He raised a brow at me and then a wicked grin spread across his face. “You're such a little slut, aren't you?”

“Fuck me.”

He laughed and drove into me with such force it hurt. But it was a good hurt that made me grunt. I timed my fingers to the rhythm of his hips and the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelmed me. It took less than a minute for me to finish again.

Unable to stop myself, I cried out loudly as I contracted around him. Negan stiffened and his moans merged with mine. I felt his warmth coursing through me, felt him twitch and jerk and then he crashed down on top of me, still inside of me. 

“God fucking damn,” he growled against my shoulder. “I wasn't fucking ready.”

I lay in the floaty, glowing after stage of sex, letting the feelings of love and satisfaction wash over me. I smiled and stroked his hair. “Clearly you were. But remember, my love, we have all weekend.”

He captured my mouth in a long toe curling kiss. “You bet your sweet fucking ass I'm going to take you again, you fucking whore.”


	8. A Favor

I had just walked in the door when my phone vibrated in my pocket. With a sigh I hung my purse on the hook and tossed my keys on the half-moon table across the foyer. They landed with a jingling clatter and skittered along the surface. Both the cat and dog thundered to greet me.

I jerked my phone from my pocket and glanced down. Negan. Of course it was Negan. He always knew when I had a hard fucking day.

I put the phone to my ear as I padded into the kitchen. “Hey, love.”

“Dollbaby...”

I sighed and cradled the phone to my cheek with my shoulder as I pulled a bowl from the cabinet. “What, Negan?”

He only called me dollbaby when he wanted something. Something he knew I'd say no to.

Negan grunted on the other end. “I need a favor.”

Rolling my eyes, I poured my cereal in the bowl. “Speak.”

“Can you please pick my wife up from chemo?”

A loud clatter echoed across my empty kitchen as I dropped the spoon on the counter. 

After a couple beats of silence, Negan cleared his throat. “Nayna?”

I rubbed my forehead. “I really hope this is a fucking joke.”

“No, it's not a fucking joke. You are the fucking last person I would want to fucking ask, trust me.”

“Are you too busy fucking other women?” I couldn't stop my voice from dripping with sarcasm.

“For fucks sake. I knew this shit wasn't going to be...fucking fuck! I can't take anymore time off work, I'll get fired.”

“How is any of this my fucking problem?” I cried.

But I was already shaking the cereal back into the box, pushing the spoon into the sink and mentally preparing myself. Because I could never say no to him. And because I lived with an extra side of guilt that I kept hidden, even from myself.

I could hear the scuffing of sneakers on the gym floor and teenagers yelling in the background. I could hear the assistant coach barking orders behind Negan. And I could hear him panting, struggling with his anger.

I leaned back against the counter and closed my eyes. “Can't she take a cab?”

“They won't let her leave unless she has someone to help her all the way home. Please, doll...”

It was odd to hear him begging. Negan never begged. He demanded, expected, but he never pleaded outside of the bedroom.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “Fine. Just...fucking text me the address.”

“I owe you.”

“Fuck you,” I said. I wanted to hang up, but I waited.

I just wanted to hear him say it. Those three little words. He almost never said them.

He breathed a sigh of relief into the phone. “Thank you. I swear I'll make it up to you.”

I snorted. “Like my birthday?”

“Yeah, sure. Look, I've got to herd these little fuckers.”

I stayed quiet, still waiting. But he wouldn't say it. All I was doing was setting myself up for heartache. Which was all I seemed to do lately. How did things get this bad between us?

“Nayna?”

My voice barely registered above a whisper. “Still here.”

“I told you I have to go,” he snapped.

“Bye,” I whispered.

“Later.”

And he hung up. A single tear trickled down my cheek and I stared at the display screen, his name flashing across before disappearing. The phone slipped from my fingers and landed with a clatter on the floor. 

I buried my face in my hands. I was angry at him for being a cold, unreachable dick. But mostly, I was angry at myself for letting him treat me that way. Normally, it didn't bother me. I always chalked it up to Negan being Negan. But ever since The Baby Incident...things just weren't the same. It would probably never be the same between us again.

All I'd ever wanted was a house, a career, a husband, a couple kids, a few pets. Now all I had was the house, the job and the animals. As long as I was with Negan I wouldn't get the kids or the marriage. But I just couldn't leave him.

He was the love of my life, even if I wasn't his.

 

I gripped the steering wheel until my fingers were numb. Why was I doing this? Was I a glutton for punishment? Was it because I was a good person and felt horrible for what I'd done to her? Or was it because I genuinely felt bad that even her fucking best friend wouldn't come get her?

All of the above.

The drive took twenty long minutes with my heart pounding in my throat the entire time. My stomach rolled with every bump and jostle. But I kept soldiering on. Just as I always had. I just had to leave the feelings and the emotions and whatever else out of it.

Cop face.

After I pulled in the parking lot and took a couple deep breaths, I walked into the hospital and followed the directions Negan texted me. It wasn't hard to find. I pushed the door open and peered in. She was the last one, sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, ankles crossed. The very picture of an elegant lady. I looked down at my jeans and stained t-shirt and felt self-conscious.

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and hovered in the doorway as I studied her.

She reminded me of my grandmother—not looks wise, but her quiet dignity, her poise. She was everything I was not. She was everything I wanted to be, including Negan's wife.

I'd never seen her in person before. Negan had a picture of her in his wallet and I'd seen it numerous times as he flipped it open and then snapped it shut again. 

Like me she had dark hair. But she was taller and older than me. She was closer to Negan in age. 

She looked up and saw me in the doorway, hands stuffed in pockets, one sneakered foot scuffing on the tile. Her eyes ran apprasingly over me and my face turned red. I looked away.

She snapped her purse shut and stood up. One of the nurses waved and she smiled and waved back.

We fell into an awkward step together, not looking at one another, not acknowledging the other.

All down the hallway I rubbed my thumb over the car key, occasionally digging it into the flesh to keep myself from crying.

“He keeps a picture of you in his wallet,” she said suddenly, squinting at me.

I frowned, staring at the empty hospital halls in front of me. Negan didn't have a picture of me. I checked and checked and checked. But I didn't argue with her. There was no point. I was in the wrong here, no matter what. She was his wife. His wife. And I was nothing more than the whore who kept him warm...Who kept his bed while his wife was busy getting chemo treatments.

The thought made my stomach roll.

“It's hidden, but it's there. Well, they are there. He has two. One of him and you and one of just you.”

I nodded, wanting to acknowledge that she spoke and I heard, but not really wanting to engage. I highly doubted Negan kept anything of mine. I bought him things, but what he did with them...He usually just left them at my house and forgot about them.

“I saw you once on the street. Rachel was kind enough to point you out to me. You stopped a big black dog from running into the street. That thing could have bit you, or dragged you around like a ragdoll, but you held onto him for a good ten minutes, until it's owner came along. Up until then, all you were in my mind was a homewrecker. A snake. But then...you became more than that. You became someone to be jealous of.”

I cringed. She had nothing to be jealous of. I was a home-wrecker. A snake. I knew he was married and I'd gone back to him the moment my life got hard. And I pretended I didn't care. I pretended that what I wasn't doing was wrong. I pretended that I didn't care that my family and friends slowly drifted out of my life, one by one, until all I had was my best friend, Lexie, and my batshit crazy mother. 

She glanced at me. “But...I need to know. Why? Why are you with him?”

I stopped and sighed. “Love.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her twisted smile. “That's the same reason I stay. You know, when I asked him why, he said he couldn't imagine a life without both of us.”

Again I kept silent, feeling like it wasn't my place to speak. I was the whore. I was the slut. The girl who kept him warm when she didn't. Once, I'd asked him the same question and he'd just gotten mad at me. And we fought. Like we always did.

She tapped her fingers on her leg. “He's dog shit. And yet. Here we both are.”

I couldn't help but smile a little. He was dog shit. And yet, he could be so gentle and kind. He'd been the one drilling me through college. Pushing me to lose the weight, and never in a mean way. He'd been there when my aunt died. He'd been there through so much of my hardship. Things that seemed like nothing compared to his wife's cancer.

And I knew I wasn't innocent, nor was I an easy person to love. I could be cold and cruel and just as demanding as him.

She cleared her throat, breaking me from my thoughts. “The mints...that your idea?”

I nodded.

“How did you know?”

I half shrugged. “My grandmother used to say that they made her feel better after chemo...”

She nodded. “Ah.”

I glanced over at her ashen face. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

She leaned against the wall. “I'll be fine.”

I hesitated, but put my hand on her shoulder. “Dizzy? Nauseated?”

She closed her eyes. “Both. It'll pass.”

I glanced down the hall for a nurse or a wheelchair, but there was nothing. All I could do was stand there and pat her back while she pressed her trembling handkerchief against her mouth. I kicked myself for not bringing the mints in from the car.

It was an uneventful silent ride back to Negan's house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, she leaned out of the car and vomited. I winced, my heart hurting for her. 

She pushed herself out of the car and stood on two shaky legs. I briefly squeezed my eyes shut, knowing I would have to help her inside. Dread prickled my skin. I didn't want to go into Negan's house. Didn't want to see the life he had with her. 

But I did things I didn't want to all the time. So I did the right thing and ushered her into the house with her leaning on my arm for support.

Walking into their bedroom, Negan was the first thing I smelled. It was all him. And yet there was a faint underlying feminine perfume that mixed nicely with his own smell. I helped her into the bed and tucked the paisley printed comforter around her.

“Thank you, Meghan,” she rasped.

I froze, looking at her like a deer in headlights. It never occurred to me that she would know my real name and not the stupid nickname Negan called me.

“You're welcome,” I replied, my voice fainter than a whisper as I backed out of the room. I fled down the stairs and into the foyer where I ran straight into Negan. His brows furrowed when he saw me.

“She got sick and I was worried so I thought I'd...”

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, as if he could see her. As if I weren't even there. “Thanks, doll.”

He didn't lean over to kiss me, he didn't touch me. Nothing, he just walked around me like I wasn't even there.

It was the first time in my life that Negan had ever made me feel invisible.


	9. Brokenhearted

I stumbled up my driveway, still half-lit from the previous night. A low grade buzz clouded my mind—and my judgment. But I didn't want to think about that...

The sky was a pretty purple, the sun getting ready to rise. I hadn't partied all night since college. And not even very often then. 

After about four tries I finally managed to stab my key in the lock and shove the door open. Fucking door always got stuck. I'd have to ask Negan...No, I couldn't...

I flipped the lights on and immediately regretted it. A hot, white piercing pain pinched my temples, making my stomach roll. Holy fucking shit...Now I remembered why I didn't drink.

Because I did stupid, stupid things and got terrible hangovers. The rolling in my stomach continued, but I couldn't tell if it was from the thudding in my head or the guilt in my heart.

“Off, off, off,” I groaned as the damned dog scratched at my bare legs, while the fucking cat weaved infinity symbols around my ankles.

I flicked the lights back off in a feeble attempt to make the pounding in my head stop. Of course the incessant clicking of claws and toenails on the hardwood floors didn't help. Jesus, why did Negan make me buy this godawful house?

Thinking of Negan invited another unsolicited flood of guilt that was difficult to push away even with my hazy mind. I pressed my fingers to my forehead, trying to clear my mind from the dizzying thoughts swirling around my brain.

Water. I needed fucking water. I need water, an advil migraine, some chips and a cookie to stave off my hangover.

I gathered my anti-hangover ingredients and made my way to the dining room. Normally I would just stand over the sink and eat like a normal single person, but all I wanted to do was sit the fuck down and put my head on the table. And cry, I suppose. God, was it possible to hate oneself so very much? Because at that moment, I hated myself more than anything in the world.

All my plans were foiled when I caught a glimpse of the beautiful long gray box sitting on the table. It could only have been from Negan. I brushed the single tear off my cheek with my arm and dropped all the shit, water included at the far end of the table. I shuffled towards the other end of the table with gray box with the silver ribbon. I opened the card and squinted, trying to make out the words in the dawning light.

N--

I know I don't say it enough. But I do. 

\--N

My heart sank. Fucking fuck. I did not need a sweet romantic gesture. God damn him to hell.

And me. God damn me to the place beyond hell.

With trembling hands I tugged the ribbon until it fell in a silky puddle on the table. Peeling off the glossy lid I gasped at the the single pink rose within. It wasn't a real rose, but one of the delicate mock flowers with the soft, shiny petals and the sterling silver stem. I rubbed my fingers across it until I noticed the tag attached. I turned it over and swallowed hard when I read the inscription.

I love you, doll. 

That motherfucking asshole. I hated him for doing this to me. I hated his wife for being sick. But mostly, I hated myself. For what I did to him...

I dropped the flower on the table, listening to the clink as it landed. Why? Why was I so stupid?

I sat at the table and lay my head on the cool surface, watching the tears pool on the dark, lacquered wood. My fingers skimmed across the table and curled around the silver stem with my thumb rubbing over the etched leaves. 

It was so beautiful. And so sweet. Everything I wanted from him. Hell, even real flowers would have touched me. This was beyond words. It was a gesture so unlike him, but exactly like his element of surprise. Eleven fucking years and he could still shock me. Eleven years and he still made me giggle like a school girl.

Eleven years that I had thrown away because of petty jealousy.

I don't know how long I was there before I fell asleep with my fingers wrapped around the stem of the rose. I just remember starting awake to a warm hand on my bare back.

I squinted up at Negan who pushed my hair off my forehead and tugged on my earlobe. “Got you McDonalds.”

The bag sat on the other end of the table lined up neatly beside the chips, the meds and the water. The dog must have snarfed the cookie while I was sleeping.

“How long have you been here?” I rasped and sat up, wiping the drool from my cheek and rubbing the crust from my dry eyes.

He pushed the bag towards me and shrugged. “Since last night.”

My heart sank. No. I squeezed my eyes shut, screaming internally. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a nearly futile effort to stave off tears. Every muscle in my body tensed when he cupped the side of my neck with his large paw. I shrugged his hand off, just as I had some many times before. He didn't even protest. He used to, but I guess he had just gotten used to me pushing him away.

“Here,” he muttered and turned my other wrist over, shaking a couple pills into my hand. “You must have a fucking killer headache. What the fuck time did you get in last night?”

I cleared my throat. “Four? Five?”

I felt the air electrify. Negan was possessive on a good day. As he liked to put it, his trust only went so far and I often tested him past his limit. Usually his jealous nature made me feel safe, secure. Now he had perfect reason to be hurt.

I couldn't look at him, so I pawed through the bag instead. French fries, a double cheeseburger and plenty of sweet n sour sauce. He smiled and slid a can of coke my way, tousling my hair before he scuffed his way to the kitchen. 

He sniffed and jerked his pants up. “Going to take a look at your car, doll. And then the fucking roof.”

I cleared my throat again, though my voice was still hoarse. “Don't fall off again.”

“Thanks for the fucking vote of confidence.”

I didn't respond. What could I say to him? 

He stared down at me with greedy, hungry eyes as I nibbled on the food. His gaze moved from me to the flower and then back to me, waiting.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, sure.”

Another stab of pain sliced through my heart as I watched him swivel and stomp to the garage. Negan had put himself out there and I'd hurt him by not even acknowledging it. I was only going to hurt him worse.

After lunch I settled myself on the couch with a blanket and flipped the channels. I needed to tell him, but I couldn't when my head pounded and my tongue felt furry.

 

I jumped awake when the door to the garage slammed and a very sweaty, very sexy Negan walked into the living room. His shirt stuck to his abs and I had the urge to run my tongue along his belly.

He walked over and tousled my hair. “You okay?”

I pressed my cheek into my shoulder and nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

But I wasn't. I fucked up. He kissed me on the forehead and swiped his finger down my nose, a smile playing on his lips, dancing in his eyes. I scanned his face, searching for the jealousy, for any trace of bad mood. But there was none.

Normally that thousand watt smile of his would make my heart flutter. Today it only made my eyes watery. 

“Ugh, your fucking car is on it's last legs. You need a fucking new one.”

I nodded at him, but stayed quiet as I observed him popping his back as he sauntered towards the fridge.

Negan stopped and cocked his head at me. “You still sick, doll?”

I tossed the remote on the couch beside me and shrugged. “No.”

I watched his muscles ripple under his tight white shirt as he opened my fridge and tugged a beer from the door. As usual, his hair brushed endearingly across his forehead, making me want to push it back. Instead, I sat on the couch, chewing on my guilt.

I hadn't seen him since the week before, when I'd picked Lucille up from her chemo treatment. I tried not to think about the things she'd said to me, the smile she'd given me or the life with Negan that she'd hinted at.

I glanced back down at my hands as he turned back to the couch. I couldn't even bear to look at him in the face. How could I, after what I'd done?

The guilty rage coiled in my belly, as the pain licked up my heart. The beer popped open and the top clattered against the other thousand bottle tops Negan collected. 

Knowing he'd been over, waiting all night for me, while I partied was just fucking awful. I could have avoided everything. We could have gone back to the way things were. I rubbed my eyes under the guise of sleepiness. But I really was trying to eradicate the tears.

He settled himself in the corner of the sectional and pulled me so I lay against his chest with my head against his heart. His fingers twisted in my hair, just like I liked. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but it wasn't happening. I couldn't force myself to feel normal around him. The more I listened to his heartbeat the sicker I felt, until I had to sit up abruptly.

His fingers curled around my shoulders. “What, doll?”

I leaned forward with my face in my hands and my elbows resting on my knees. How could I not tell him?

I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked into his darkening ones. I had to. The thought of breaking his heart was breaking mine. But I owed it to him.

He stroked the base of my neck with his left hand while slipping his right hand into mine. “Doll?”

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together into a thin, tight line. Slowly I released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. I deflated like a tire and my voice was surprisingly without feelings when I spoke. 

“I slept with someone else.”

The mood between us changed instantly. He no longer touched me. Instead I felt the crackle of rage in the air. I looked up at him, feeling simultaneously overwhelmed with pain and overwhelmed with my lack of other emotion. He stood, towering over me, panting, tilting his head to the side, as if he was begging me to take it back. To tell him the joke was on him.

His knuckles whitened as he cradled the beer bottle to his rapidly rising chest. The urge to run my fingers over his cheek felt urgent, but the pure look of bitter hatred in his face frightened me. 

He turned back to the TV and pitched the beer bottle straight into it. It wobbled for a moment and then landed with a crash on the floor, just as broken as I felt. 

Both the cat and the dog jumped up from their place at the end of the couch and flew into one of the back rooms. 

I wanted to be angry about the stupid TV. But I couldn't blame him, knowing I would have done the same myself.

He was helpless and therefore angry. It was a typical man thing, and I'd never been able to quell that side of him. He was hurt and I prepared for him to lash out against me. To yell. To scream. He just stood there, staring at the mess of plastic and wire on the floor.

When he faced me again it was with his fists curled by his sides. “Why?”

I didn't have a reason. Other than I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him jealous. I wanted him to feel the same jealousy I had whenever Lucille was around. And because I was lonely. But fucking that man didn't bring me anything more than pain.

I wrapped my arms about myself and shook my head. “Because I'm a horrible person.”

“Don't fucking play games with me.”

“I'm not. I promise. I...I fucked up.”

He laughed. “You fucked up. No fucking shit Sherlock. You fucked...You fucked another fucking man.”

A single tear trickled down my cheek.

“Don't you fucking cry. Don't you fucking dare.”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I looked at his face. His face which was strangely devoid of all emotion. I pushed myself up and tottered over to him, but he backed away. 

“Who was it?”

I shrugged. I didn't know. I didn't know his name, where he was from. I didn't know anything but that he was terrible, terrible at sex and it wasn't worth it. Hell, even if the sex had been outstanding, it wasn't fucking worth it.

He jerked his fist through his hair. “You're not even going to fucking apologize? Wow...”

My chest was heaving as I tried to fight back hiccuping sobs. “N-n-no. Because it w-w-wouldn't c-change what I did. I wanted to hurt you. And I did. And I regret it so much. Because I love you. And only you.”

He stared at me incredulously. “You fucking wanted to hurt me? Fucking Christ, Meghan. That's...”

Negan pressed his fist into his forehead. I could see the the pain etched across the lines of his face. I reached a trembling hand out to him, wanting nothing more than to hold him in my arms. Press his face into my breast, like I had done the night he told me about Lucille's cancer. Wanted to take the pain from him, just as I had wanted to that night.

Only this time that pain was my fault. I hated myself.

He knocked my hand away with his elbow and turned away from me. I pressed my palm against his broad back, but he shrugged me off. He stalked off into the dinning room and I followed him as far as the arch, stopping when his fist met the wall again and again. I recoiled and closed my eyes.

“Negan, please,” I whispered, surprised at how small my voice sounded.

He whirled around and came to tower over me, pressing me into the wall, his face inches from mine. “Please, what? What the fuck is it that you fucking want?”

“To take it all back.”

“Too fucking late. God damn you. God fucking damn you to hell, woman.”

He was shaking, with rage and pain. The urge to touch him won out against my good sense and I leaned forward, pressing my face into his shoulder, taking in his smell. He pushed off the wall, dragging himself away from me, depriving me of his warmth. Of the comfort his arms would bring. But I didn't deserve to be comforted.

He walked over to the table and slammed his hands down. My eyes drifted to the rose on the table and my heart ached for him. And it suddenly hit me, exactly what I'd done to him. Not only had I betrayed him, but I had chosen the worst time. His wife had cancer. I was the only person he could lean on, could count on, who he could turn to for love and comfort. And I pissed all over his heart. Instead of talking to him about my concerns, I'd done the most childish thing. I'd done the first thing I could to hurt him. 

He loved me. He always had. His way of showing it was different, but he tried in earnest. And I was so selfish. So very, very selfish.

His fingers curled around the rose. “Who?'

“I don't know his name...”

His head snapped up. “You fucked someone else and you don't even know his fucking name? What the fuck, Meghan? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I....”

He snapped the rose in half. “You know what? I don't even fucking care anymore. Fuck this. You're not worth this bullshit.”

I wish he had hit me. It would have hurt me far less. And then I would have been justified kicking him in the balls. Instead, I stood there with stupid tears crawling down my cheeks as he stormed over to the trashcan and hurled the two pieces of the rose inside. 

He swiped his wallet from the counter and flipped it open. I watched his thick, clumsy fingers digging until he pulled out two pictures. Pictures of us and me. The exact ones Lucille talked about. He flung them at me and they fluttered to the floor, abandoned. He snatched his keys from the hook as he stuffed his wallet in his back pocket.

I stepped forward, trying to block his path. “No, Negan, don't. Please give me another chance.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and simply moved me aside. No shoving, no roughness, he just swept me aside like sand in the wind.

He left me standing in the kitchen with a broken TV and a broken heart.


	10. The World

After Negan left I sat on the couch with my arms wrapped about my knees, staring at the wall. All I could think of was the mistake I'd made. The sex hadn't even been worth it. We'd sneaked out behind the club and the man had taken me up against the wall. The bricks had dug into my back and his breath had smelled of whiskey. I didn't ask his name, he hadn't asked mine. All I wanted was revenge.

And the only revenge I got was sitting on the couch alone, wondering if this was how Lucille felt when she first found out about me. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I deserved this. I should have been the one with cancer, the sick one, not her. She'd done nothing to deserve it.

I knew I should be angry at Negan's hypocrisy, but I couldn't be. How could I be, having known he was married? And as far as I knew it was only the two of us. Lucille and me. Negan joked that he didn't have time for any other women since the both of us were so demanding.

I plucked the threads from the blanket as I stared at my broken TV. Not like I'd used it much. But still. 

I padded my way over to the trash can and dug out the rose, clutching it to my heart as I looked around the living area. A wave of sadness washed over me as I realized I didn't even have a picture of Negan hanging up. There were no photos of us around. Except the one he'd thrown on the floor. I scooped them up with my left hand, rubbing my thumb along the smooth surface.

Several tears trickled down my cheeks as I wandered around my empty, lonely house. Even the dog and cat were in hiding.

I glanced down, frowning at my clothes. I guess somewhere between lunch and dozing on the couch I'd dressed myself. I was so out of it...I felt so weak and dizzy. All I wanted to do was go after him and find him.

I was standing in the dining room, debating on going after him, when my door burst open and Negan shoved his way through. My heart skipped a beat, seeing him.

He stopped in the archway connecting the kitchen and the dining room and stared at me. I watched him, shaking on the inside, silently pleading for him to come hold me. Instead, he turned and slammed his fist into the wall. I recoiled and took a step back from him and he advanced on me.

“What are you doing?”

His red rimmed eyes intensified and I backed up until I hit the wall. He loomed over me, a giant, ready to strike at any moment. He trapped me between his arms, his gaze boring down into my soul, making me squirm. 

Even though Negan had never, and would never, hit me, there was still that irrational fear. That was, until he started tearing my clothes off.

His large, clumsily fingers tore at the buttons on my shirt. Several popped off and rolled across the floor as he wriggled his thick fingers in the gap he'd just made. I shivered when he made contact with the skin of my breast. Surely he could feel my hammering heart.

His other hand buried itself in my hair and jerked my head back, giving him free access to my throat. I pushed on his shoulders to no avail as his teeth scraped a lovely path down my neck to my clavicle. 

I'd never seen him like this. Even the day he told me about his wife's cancer...This was so much different. My heart leaped with joy and yet my stomach sank into an ocean of anxiety. I wanted him inside of me, next to me, but I wanted to talk to him to beg his forgiveness. I wanted so many things I could not give.

He furiously tugged at my shirt. “Take it the fuck off. Now.”

I reached up with trembling hands and I fumbled with the buttons until Negan was able to tear it from my body with one hand. His other was still tangled in my long hair. I shivered as the cool air of the dining room hit my nipples, hardening them.

He pulled me from the wall by my hair. “Bedroom.”

I stumbled my way down the hall as he used my hair as a leash, guiding me, directing me. 

He kicked the door shut behind him, just as he had so many times before. He jerked me around to face him. The intensity of his stare only made my heart slam faster. And it piqued my desire. I stood there, breathing heavily, waiting with timid anticipation for his next move. His eyes glittered in the dim light, taking in my bare breasts, as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

He stared at my face, jaw locked. “Take your hair down.”

Another flush of desire. Fuck this man. He knew exactly how to get to me. Exactly how to pull every string. I obeyed, yanking the tie from my hair and shaking it out so it curtained my shoulders. 

Negan smiled a malevolent smile. “Knees.”

Again, I obeyed, lowering myself to kneel at his feet, never breaking our gaze. From my position on the floor I could see the large bulge in his jeans. Bigger than normal. I tried not to smile, slightly thrilled at how much he was getting off on telling me what to do.

He rubbed his index finger over my lips. “Open your fucking mouth, slut.”

Watching his face from under my lashes, I opened my mouth and leaned forward, wrapping my lips around the pad of his index finger. He nodded with a slight sneer and I curled my fingers around his wrist.

“Suck.”

Of course I sucked, trying not to moan, trying not to show exactly how much fire lay between my thighs. As I bobbed my head up and down, I couldn't help but feel victorious, knowing this side of Negan was something he shared with me and only me. Something between us that was just ours. When we were in the bedroom it was just us. There were no looming thoughts of his wife.

His breathing began to get heavy along with his eyes as he watched me take his finger deeper and deeper in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as if it were....well...him. He dipped his other hand down to squeeze one of my breasts. I arched my back, trying to fill his hand more.

He chuckled. “You're such a slut. Aren't you?”

I nodded and he twirled one of my curls between his fingers. 

He jerked his finger from my mouth with a loud pop. “Pants and panties.”

I stood and turned my back to him. He growled, but I looked at him playfully over my shoulder. Again he growled, but I shook my head and danced away from his reaching paws. He snagged the back of my jeans and pulled me against his broad, warm body. I didn't even bother stifling the giggle that fluttered from my lips as he ran his nails down my sides.

He caught me by the throat with one hand and used the other to undo the jeans. He jerked them around my knees, preventing my escape.

I cried out at the sharp sting on my backside. His panting breath tickled my cheek. “Don't fucking do that again.”

His hand gripped my throat tighter and I nodded. The fire that coiled in my lower belly spread and I licked my lips. God he was so fucking sexy when he was pissed. It only made me long for him all the more.

He nipped my jaw. “Just in case you haven't gotten the fucking memo, doll...You belong to me. Your body belongs to me. Got it?”

As commanding as he sounded, I knew it was his way of asking for permission. I swallowed against his hand. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he growled.

I grinned, knowing what he wanted me to say, and knowing I could catch him off guard. “Yes...Daddy.”

A flash of shock registered on his face, but he quickly replaced it with the lusty gaze from earlier. “Fucking right, I'm your Daddy. And now...I'm going to show you.”

He threw me unceremoniously back on the bed and wrested my pants and panties off, dropping them on the floor. He reared back and raked his eyes over my body, sending thrills all over my skin. I watched through half lidded eyes as he jerked his clothes off and sprang out at me. Negan climbed on top of me, his erection pressing into my thigh. His hand slipped between our bodies and down to my lower lips. I willingly opened my thighs further apart for him. All I wanted was his touch. I ached for him. I sighed as his fingers slipped easily between my folds, whimpering as his thumb brushed against my clit.

And then he claimed me, thrusting inside of me with a force that made the bed shudder and groan. I tried to pull him down for a kiss, but he pinned my wrists above my head even as he moved inside of me. It stung a little, him not kissing me, but it was his way of asserting his authority over me. Not that I really minded. I bit my lips and raised my hips in time with his movement. 

“Daddy...”

“Shut the fuck up, slut. I didn't fucking give you permission to speak. I didn't give you permission...”

Inwardly, I winced. No, he hadn't given me permission to fuck another man. I realized he came back to mark his territory. I swallowed the guilt, the sadness and closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of Negan sliding in and out of me, making me feel full and stretched and then simply empty. Again and again and again.

My eyes snapped open when his tongue swirled around my nipple in tight circles. It was then I noticed him watching me with those eyes. Vengeful, gleaming eyes, so dark I couldn't even see the pupil. Eyes that made my heart flutter in the middle of rough, earth shattering fucking.

He laughed bitterly at my whimpering and moaning. “Does this fucking feel good to you, little whore?”

“Yes, Daddy...”

He sneered at me. “Better than the other man?”

Another shot to my heart. “Yes, Daddy. I belong to you.”

I cried out as he drove into me with unexpected force. “You're fucking right you belong to me. You're mine. Do you fucking understand? You...are...mine.”

He moved again, his pelvis now rubbing roughly against my clit. I raised my hips in the air, panting like the slut I was as he grated against me. My moans filled my empty bedroom as he brought me to a trembling, mind numbing orgasm, contracting around him and eliciting grunts from his throat.

My hands were still pinned above me and I struggled against him, trying to roll him, but he wouldn't allow it. Instead he held me there as he buried his face in my neck, groaning into my skin, sending goosebumps up and down my arms.

If he didn't finish soon, I knew I was going to break in half. Every new thrust caused me more pain. Not terrible pain, but enough for me to know I would be sore in the morning. Though, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Negan wasn't hurting me to hurt me, no, he was hurting and he needed me. 

Turning my head to the side, I whispered in his ear. “I love you so much.”

I expected him to tell me to shut up or something. I didn't expect him to murmur back. “Me too, doll.”

I nuzzled his face, just as he had all those years ago, trying to turn his head for a kiss. He knew me in a way no one else ever had. I didn't even have to say it. He turned his head willingly and seized my lips in a deep, loving and sweet kiss.

He groaned into my mouth as he finished, his whole body tensing against mine before he collapsed on top of me. He kissed me again. And again and again. I could feel the urgency in his mouth and it hurt me so terribly. I couldn't make up for what I'd done, but I could give him what comfort I knew how to. 

After a while he rolled off me and sat on the edge of the other side of the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at his broad, heavily muscled back and sighed.

He scraped his hands over his hair. “What?”

“Nothing...I just...I'm sorry.”

“You don't get to have another fucking man. Okay? Just me.”

All the warmth of our love making left me and I narrowed my eyes. All the guilt I'd been feeling dissipated in an instant and my mood was suddenly sour. “You're such a fucking hypocritical prick.”

He glared at me from over his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

I flopped back on the bed, rubbing my hands over my face. “No, fuck you. Why is it okay for you to have two of us but neither one of us is allowed anything else?”

“I love you both. What you fucking did wasn't for love. You slept with some fucking stranger to be a fucking petty bitch. Fucking dickfuck, doll.”

I stayed silent, knowing he was partially right. But still, it didn't make the anger go away. Didn't make the pain or the longing in my soul leave. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees, looking at his back.

He cleared his throat and continued. “I'm fucking selfish, okay? I don't want you giving your love or affection to anyone else. I want...I want you all to myself.”

“Don't you think that's what Lucille and I both what? Don't you think it fucking sucks? Goddamn. She's got cancer and here you are fucking another woman. Call me petty but...”

He snorted. “I don't see you stopping me.”

I shook my head. “You're an adult Negan. You can do whatever the fuck you want. You took those vows, I didn't. ”

He shrugged. “You know about them. That makes you just as guilty.”

“You're still the asshole in this situation. We're just two people who love the same piece of dog shit.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

I held up my hands. “Not my words.”

“What?”

“Lucille.”

He pressed his lips together.

I sighed. “I just don't want to do this anymore, Negan...I'm tired of sharing you. And with a sick woman. I can't compete....and if....”

“So is that fucking it? This is how you're fucking ending it?”

I couldn't look at him. Didn't want to face him when I admitted the truth. The truth that I'd been thinking about for six long months. “I just don't see this arrangement going on for much longer.”

“Arrangement? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

I continued to stare at the wall. “Negan....I want things you refuse to give me. I can live without us being married. But I want a baby. You don't. You won't. Nor will you let me find someone who will give me one. Not that I want to. But....”

He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “You're fucking treating this as if it's a business deal. Fucking arrangement.”

I chewed on my lip. Bad choice of words, but then again, that's what it felt like. Things between us were so stilted lately, it was like a business deal. He came to see me twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays with one Saturday a month thrown in. Everything, down to the last detail was scripted. Come home, have dinner, watch TV, go out for a run, make love and sleep. And then he would be gone before I woke up the next morning. I turned my face away for a moment, trying to hide my tears from him. I couldn't stand crying in front of him anymore. Not since he'd mocked me after The Baby Incident. After a few moments of deep breathing I was able to gather myself. When I looked back up Negan was staring down at me with an unfamiliar expression on his face. I didn't know if he was angry or hurting. Possibly both. 

I picked at a hole in my sheets. “What you don't realize, Negan, is that you're condemning me to loneliness. My fucking family doesn't talk to me. Claire barely speaks to me. The only time my mother calls is for money. I have no one but Lexie and you. Because you have alienated everyone in my life to the point where I've had to choose. And every time I've chosen, it's always been you. When have you ever put me first? When have you ever chosen me over anyone?”

He slammed his hand down on the bed, making me jump. “God fucking damnit! Is this about the fucking baby? It's always about the fucking baby. I should have just knocked you up last year to shut you up.”

I stared at him. What an asshole. But I couldn't break down. If I did, I wouldn't be strong enough. Instead, I shrugged. He was partially right. But only partially.

Negan pressed his mouth together. “Is that why you want a baby? To prove that I love you? To prove that I choose you?”

“No. I want a baby because I've always wanted one. You're my...you're my one. The only person I will ever feel that connected with. I can't explain it--”

“--you don't have to. I know.”

I snorted. “You don't.”

He stared at the opposite wall. “I fucking know. Only I don't have one. I have two. It's fucking hard on me too.”

“You get to have your cake and eat it too. With virtually no consequences, Negan.”

Again he glanced in my direction. “I was never looking to fall in love with you.”

“No, I was just someone to keep your bed warm when you were out of town,” I said unable to keep the biting sarcasm and bitterness from my voice. Lucille would always be first. Always.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Nayna. You know the fucking details. Why do we have to keep fucking hashing this out? Why can't you fucking get over it?”

I looked down at my hands and then back up at him. “You didn't love me until you realized I was someone you could fix, could mold to make yours. I thought...I thought the sun shone out of your ass. That's how much I loved you. I still do, but the light is slowly fading. Don't I deserve better?”

He squared his jaw, staring at me with blazing eyes. “You fucking deserve the world. But I'm fucking selfish and I don't want to let you have the world. Not when I'm fucking here. Because I want you. I love you. I love the woman you have become. It wasn't love at first fucking sight, but it fucking grew out of something deeper. Can't you fucking see that? Respect it? Stop thinking about what should have happened and what has happened. Damnit...Can't you just be happy with me?”

I winced hearing the plea under the anger. Knowing that he felt like he wasn't enough for me. Boy did I know what that felt like. Although it made me angry, I also ached for him, hating to see him hurting. Hating the fact that I was the one to hurt him. I wanted so desperately to be happy with him. It was what I wanted more than life itself.

He threw the sheet from his lap and jerked on his boxer briefs. Heavy footsteps tread across my carpet until he came to stand in front of me. 

I looked up at him through wet lashes. And then I smiled, a little wryly, a little softly. “Lexie once asked me why I loved you. Why I stay with you even when you're such a dick to me. I didn't know what to tell her then, but now I know why. When everyone else in the world was abandoning me, you were there. You taught me how to love myself. How to treat myself. How to be kind to myself. I love you because you made me the best version of me that I could be. And you taught me that I deserve things. And...I deserve so much more, my love.”

Negan's face blanched. “So is that it then? Is it fucking over?”

I swallowed hard. “I don't know. I don't know...”

He squatted down and cupped my face in his hands, thumbs brushing over my eyebrows. I curled my toes into the mattress, trying not to cry. I wanted to beg him to get back into bed with me, to hold me close and tell me that he loved me. But I wanted so much more than that. So much more than he wanted to give. And we both knew it. Eleven years...He'd been my friend, my lover, my man for eleven years. I didn't want to let him go. But I had to.

Negan pressed his forehead to mine. “What is it that you fucking want? Tell me and I'll give it to you.”

My heart was breaking all over again when I spoke in a thin, reedy voice, “I want the world.”


	11. Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let everyone know, my pup had surgery on the 8th. Everything looks fine now, I haven't heard back from the vet yet, but as the Navy has taught me--no news=good news! We just removed the cone of shame. She went nuts, it was adorable.  
> Also, school starts again for me on Monday. Somehow I got it in my mind that it would be an awesome idea to take a novel writing class. Don't ask me why I love to torture myself! So in the coming months I'll be working on my real novel along with TTB, WWC, BTB and the two other side fics I have going on. I have so much on my plate right now it's not even funny. I realize the updates have really slowed down and for that I'm sorry. For TTB I've been waiting on my beta to get back to me, but it's been a few weeks and I don't know how that is working. Again, if anyone here would like to help out, read over, give ideas, I'm always open. Especially constructive criticism. I really, really want to improve my writing as best I can. Anyway, thanks again for reading and as always, comment, kudos, bookmark, subscribe! You guys are awesome!

For the third time, Sean tossed a quarter into my mug of coffee, sending droplets flying everywhere. I looked up from the report I was reading and narrowed my eyes at him.

He giggled like a hairy, overgrown schoolgirl. “Did you see that?”

I ground my teeth together. “I suppose.”

“Good lord, Hunter, what's gotten into you lately? You're such a sourpants.”

I slammed the papers down on my desk, standing up, fingers splayed on the smooth surface. “Can you just fuck off for like an hour? All fucking day long I hear your mouth running. You're worse than a woman.”

He held up his hands in mock self-defense. “Excuse me. Are you on your period?”

A hot crimson rage filled my vision. I needed to hit someone. Needed to get the frustration of my failing life out of my brain. Sean would do nicely. I loved him like a brother, but like a brother, some days I wanted to punch him in his giddy, grinning face. Maybe it would straighten his damn teeth.

Just as I curled my fingers around the big crystal paperweight—a gift from Negan—the door to the office opened and our boss, JT, stomped into the cramped office.

“The fuck are you two stumpheads doing?” he snapped, looking between a cowering Sean and me, about to lob the paperweight at the formers head.

Sean gestured at me wildly. “She's on her period, sir. I'm just trying to avoid the wrath of the red wave. Look, she's violent and everything.”

I opened my mouth but JT cut in. “Well, Everett, take a Midol and then I want the two of you to go to the mall and pick up this witness.”

The grin on Sean's face faded and he pursed his lips. My lips twitched with a smile, the first smile since Negan and I broke up a week before. It was petty, but it did make me feel better, at least a little.

JT skirted around the cluttered drawers and slapped the file on my desk. “Be gentle, he's fucking skittish. And he's been known to carry, but he's the best we got with the Ramsay case.”

Sean cleared his throat. “Take a Midol?”

JT rolled his eyes and dropped his brief case on the floor next to his chair. “Good fucking God, woman. Calm your tits.”

“Wow, JT, you've really out assholed yourself,” he groused as he reached around me for his jacket. I chuckled as I leaned to the side. Idly I flipped through the case file, reaching for my coffee, temporarily forgetting about the three quarters in the mug.

Ramsay case....originally labeled a murder suicide from 1986, however, witnesses came forward saying they heard and saw another man in the residence. Originally investigated by Metro PD, who managed to make the case into a total farce. I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of the nearly cold coffee, frowning at the tangy metallic taste. Skimming over the rest of the details, I noted that the witness in question was, at the time, a twelve year old boy who lived in the neighborhood. Ever since then he'd been in and out of prison for assault, robbery, dealing. You name it, he served time for it. Not exactly the most reliable witness. But it was worth a try. 

By the time Metro PD turned the case over to NIS, all other evidence, aside from a boot imprint were completely gone or contaminated. And three of the witnesses refused to give statements regarding the murder of Lt. Ramsay and her family.

Not a new case, but not one that had come across my desk before. I scanned over the crime scene notes, the photo of the boot imprint, the photos of the bodies, the autopsy reports. The children and the Lieutenant were all shot at point blank range. But the husband had been shot from a distance of ten or more feet, according to the reports. Interesting. I took another sip of coffee and immediately spit it out, squinting into the cup. The quarters. I squinted up at Sean who grinned at me.

Being the petty girl I was, I accidentally poured it on his shoes. JT looked around his monitor at us, tussling and sighed.

“You two are like child, you fucking know that?”

“You love us anyway,” Sean teased.

JT rubbed his temples. “Be it as it may, will the two of you kindly go get the fucking witness?”

Sean saluted him. “Aye, aye Capt'n.”

JT looked like he was about to unholster his Sig and shoot Sean, so I ushered him out of the office. “Good grief, you know how the man gets after court days. Come on, the faster we do this the faster we can go home.”

Not that I wanted to go home. At work it was easy to keep busy, to keep my mind off Negan. But when I went home, he was everywhere. His clothes were still there. I stupidly still slept in one of his old ratty baseball shirts. 

I'd quietly boxed up the rest of his things, toothbrush, movies, watch, socks, shoes, knick-knacks. Everything except that one shirt and his old baseball glove signed by Ripken himself. Negan fucking loved that glove. So I held on to it, to have a little piece of him when I needed it.

And I needed it a lot.

All the way to the mall, Sean talked about his fiance Jennifer. It was Jenny this and Jenny that. So much so that I changed his ringtone to that stupid song. Again, petty, but uplifting. Sean wouldn't notice until later and then he would blame her, like he always did. I enjoyed watching the fallout. 

“How's your boytoy? Negan?”

Of course he would ask. Dickwad. I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Don't, okay?”

“Ah, well. You deserved better, even if you didn't want it.”

I looked at him with a half open mouth. But he was right. Sean may have been goofy and annoying, but underneath it all he didn't miss much. Sometimes I wondered if it was all a facade. 

We pulled into the mall and strolled into the food court. Sean pointed at a man sitting alone at an empty table. 

Though he was a forty-two year old man, he dressed more like a teen gangster than an adult. His legs were spread wide, casual, laid back, but his knees bounced up and down. His fingertips drummed on his knees and his blue eyes shifted rapidly around the room. Fuck, I was getting anxious just watching him.

“Gotta piss,” Sean said patting my back before ducking into the men's room.

I rolled my eyes. Of course Sean would take forever because, well it was Sean. But maybe Kline wouldn't be so skittish if I approached him. What could he have to fear from a five foot three inch girl, after all? Though Sean was even less intimidating, the goofy bean pole that he was.

“Hello, I'm Agent Hunter,” I introduced myself to the sandy haired man and slid him my card.

He ran his watery eyes up and down my body in a vulgar fashion. I rolled my own and pointed to the chair.

“May I, Mr. Kline?”

He smirked and nodded. “Sure...Ms. Hunter.”

I forced a smile. “Agent Hunter, please.”

He sneered. “Is that even your real name? Hunter? Like you hunt shit? Makes sense for a hotshot agent.”

Oh, for fucks sake. I said nothing, quelling the intense urge to roll my eyes, instead sitting down across from him and crossing my ankles as I waited for Sean the slow to finish taking his piss. Kline fingered my card and licked his lips.

Again he appraised me. “So they sent the tiniest white chick they could find.”

My toes curled in my shoes as I furrowed my brow. “Beg pardon?”

He gestured to me. “Obviously NCIS feels threatened if they're sending a little non-threatening corn fed white girl to pick me up.”

I blinked at him. Oh, he needed to be punched and badly. But NCIS sort of frowned upon punching people while on duty. Particularly witnesses. Corn fed. What an asshole.

I raised a brow at him. “Well, thank you anyway, but I'm actually from D.C.”

He shrugged. “Yeah well, you look like you got a lot of shit handed to you in life.”

I nodded slowly, as if he were mentally incapacitated. “I suppose. Look, if you help us, NCIS can make at least two of your current charges disappear. We can help you set up a new life, find schools if you wanted. Pretty much we can assist you if you assist us.”

Where the fuck was Sean? I scanned the food court. Not even a mall cop in sight. My stomach squirmed at the thought, as I gazed around at the nearly empty place.

“That's what all you cops say. We'll keep you safe, Steven,” he said in a high falsetto, mocking my voice. “Bull fucking shit. Fuck all of you. Why should I give you information?”

I folded my hands on the table, looking into his twitching face, trying to appear as calm as possible. “You called us.”

He wiped his nose with his sleeve and shrugged as he glanced around. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth before settling on me again. “Yeah well, I had a momentary lapse in fucking judgment.”

I inclined my head. “Or you knew we would help you.”

Where the fuck was Sean? I already regretted breaking protocol. Approaching him alone was just fucking dumb. Sometimes it was warranted, but sometimes, like now, it was just dumb, dumb, dumb. But I couldn't show weakness, I couldn't show any apprehension. Men like Kline ate that shit up and used it against you.

His eyes stared off at a spot over my shoulder and he shook his head, hair flying everywhere, reminding me of Negan and the soft wispy hairs that brushed his forehead. And suddenly, Steven Kline looked less like a gangster wannabe and more like that little twelve year old boy who witnessed a terrible and bloody crime.

“Look, Steven, what you saw that day was horrible. I have no doubt about it. But if you just could tell us anything, we can protect you--”

I stopped, seeing the fear in his eyes as his gaze snapped back to me. His breathing quickened and he looked down at the table, unable to meet my stare for another moment. I couldn't not comfort him, so I slid my arm across the table and slipped my fingers into his limp hand. My heart hurt for him and I wanted to help so bad. There were so many people I couldn't help, that it made it difficult for me to watch this man....this boy, suffer and not do anything about it.

“Who is it?” I hissed, squeezing his hand. “Tell me and I can help you. Something has you scared and I want to help you, I swear.”

I was too busy looking into those blue eyes that I didn't see anything aside from a flash of silver. I heard a yell as I fell backwards, my cheek and eye pounding. There were screams and the sounds of chairs scraping along the tiled mall floor.

My head hit the floor with a sickening crack that sent my stomach rolling, and a flash of light behind my eyes, adding to the throbbing in my cheek. Dark, shadowy shapes blurred in and out of my line of sight. I could feel myself flickering, like a dying lightbulb.

My last coherent thoughts were about Negan. I wanted to feel his arms around me one more time. Wanted to feel the steady rhythm of his heart against my cheek. His warm lips on my forehead as he whispered my name. All I wanted was him. And I'd thrown him away. A single tear dribbled down my cheek and into my hair.

Everything faded, his name never leaving my lips.


	12. Overnight

I woke up in the hospital a few hours later, my cheek on fire and my head throbbing in time with my heart. Absently, I swiped a wrist over my forehead, groaning in pain as I jerked a needle from my hand. Opening my eyes, I looked around and came face to face with JT. I shrank back from his flared nostrils, wide green eyes and tightened jaw.

He sneered. “I should write both of your asses up. You fucking idiots.”

I blinked and pushed myself up. The motion made me feel dizzy and soured my already bubbling stomach. JT thrust a cup of water in my hand and supported my shoulders as I struggled to sit. 

“You remember what happened, Hunter?”

“That fucker hit me,” I rasped. 

JT nodded and lifted the cup to my lips. “He sure as hell did. Right in the fucking face. You fucking deserved it too.”

My throat was like sandpaper, so I obediently swallowed the cool liquid. And he was probably right. I'd let myself get distracted and I'd been alone.

I glanced around the dark room. “How long have I been out?”

JT tossed the empty cup in the trash. “Few hours. They sewed up your cheek. You're on light duty for two weeks.”

I could feel my face screwing up and I battled the tears. “You going to write me up?”

“No, but only because we have Kline in custody,” JT said far more gently than before. He patted my shoulder.

I picked at the covers, my brow furrowed. “Someone is after him.”

JT nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, Everett noticed a man pointing at you. Tall, brown hair, lanky. Sort of like fuckhead there. Anyway, Kline is in custody so no one will be getting to him and now we can focus on getting a fucking statement from him. Who knows how it will hold up in court, but at least it's fucking progress.”

I nodded and then immediately regretted it. I'd never been hurt this bad in my life. It felt like my entire face was one big balloon about to burst. Add in the headache, and all I wanted to do was puke and crawl back into bed. 

I rubbed my hand over the bump at the back of my head.

JT grabbed my hand and put it back in my lap. “You're gonna have a hell of a concussion.”

“Where is the doctor? I want to go home.”

He shook his head. “Overnight. You know the drill, Hunter. And you're off the case. For now. At least while Internal Affairs investigates.”

I spluttered. “What? But--”

“--Hunter, you may have pissed me off, but you're a decent fucking agent. You love your job, you're good at it and you're good at reading people. In the end, you may have saved that mans life by being a compassionate dumbass. You're still no less a dumbass, but I've got your back. As long as you promise never to do that dumb shit again.”

I looked down at my hands and chewed on my lip. “I won't and...thanks....”

Someone cleared their throat from the door. We glanced over and my heart sank. Lucille stood in the doorway, looking as perfect as ever. JT gave her his most polite smile.

“Thank you,” he said and stood. “See you later, Hunter.”

He left me with my mouth hanging open.

She approached me, and it took everything I had not to cry as she cupped my chin in her warm, dry hand. She tilted my face up until I was looking into her eyes.

“What happened?”

I gave her a twisted smile. “Work.”

She raised her brows. “Work?”

“Rowdy witness. Comes with the job, you know?”

Although, it really didn't. But I did not want to seem weak in front of her. I don't know why.

Her large, dark eyes were sympathetic. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, but thank you. I'll just call my best friend later. They're keeping me overnight.”

And I also didn't want to see Negan. I couldn't believe JT called Lucille. How could he know. I glanced down blinking back tears.

She smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. A completely motherly gesture. One that made me want to cry, far more than JT yelling at me had. One sneaky little tear escaped and I hurriedly brushed it away.

“Did you two fight?”

Oh God. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Negan. Especially to his wife. 

I meant to say something to change the subject. Instead, I whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Her brows twitched and she sat beside me, sliding her arm around my shoulders.“Negan's always been like this. He's always had other women. But never....never a relationship. Until you. I don't know how many women he has besides us--”

“--none. Just us,” I said quietly, looking at my hands.

She snorted. “I doubt it.”

I smiled wryly. “You forget, madam. I'm an investigator. It's my job to well, pry. His phone records, expenditures, indicate that it's just you and me...That and something he said to me, basically screamed there are only two of us....Were. Now it's just you. And that's how it should be.”

Lucille frowned. “What did he say?”

I pressed my non-throbbing cheek against my shoulder. “That he could barely handle us both, especially since I'm very.....high maintenance.”

Even nine years later it still hurt to think about that night. When he first revealed he was married. Two years after we started dating. I was so naive and young then. Young, dumb and so in love.

I really wished she would let me go. The last thing I wanted was sympathy from the woman whose husband I had been in love with. It only made her more saintly in my eyes and me, a terrible person. Suddenly I was so tired. I felt like I could sleep for a week.

Another tear dripped out of my eye without warning. Lucille brushed it away, again much like her husband would have.

“Stop crying. And you need to call him.”

She stood. I squinted up at her. “What?”

She stared down at me and sighed. “He's going to need you.”

“What does that mean?”

But she was already walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter to date. I feel like I needed to get something out. As I've said before my relationship with writing is tumultuous. I absolutely love it, but there are days where I want to pull my hair out.  
> With this story, it was supposed to be a fun little distraction. Unfortunately, it's turned into something bigger and I didn't plan out as well as I should have and now it feels haphazard and sloppy. Which is fine. Rough draft and all, but I believe I need to put this on hiatus to focus on the prequel to TPWP and its sequel as well. I haven't been working on TTB because I had been waiting back on my beta who unfortunately seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. Sad, but I understand life happens. Anyway, I'm going to go back and edit this when I get a chance.  
> Currently, I have two other new fics in the working and my real novel. I haven't lost my passion for writing, but when the story becomes bigger than intended, it's time to take a small step back. I'm not abandoning it forever, but for a little while I'm going to put it on the shelf until one day I can dust it off and rework it.  
> I am also going back and reworking TPWP. It needs cleaned up so bad. There are chapters and phrases and things that just make me cringe. But it was the first project that I finished and I want to practice polishing it and making it even better than it is.
> 
> TLDR: I've got too many fires going and I need to focus on the other 5 works I have going. But thank you for sticking with me. And I hope you all go back and reread TPWP once I've reworked it, and move on to TTB and BTB. <3 You guys make this thing so much fun.


	13. The First Break

Negan and I had always had a tumultuous relationship. Break up, make up, live together in relative peace until the next wave of disaster hit us. Over and over and over. We’d been together on and off for eleven years. It was always me who ended things, never him. No matter how much I fucked up or how nasty I was to Negan, he always stayed.

The first time I’d walked out on him had been the eve of my college graduation. By that time we’d been together for nearly two years. Two years and I thought he was going to propose to me that night.

He’d been the only one to show up at the ceremony. None of my family bothered to come and most of my friends were graduating with me and gravitating towards their own families. But Negan came, handing me a bouquet of roses and telling me how beautiful I looked and that he was proud of me.

He seemed alarmed when I began to cry. I’d tearfully explained that the last person who told me they were proud of me was my father who had died eight years ago. I would never forget the look on his face. A mixture of shock, horror, anger and pain flashed across his eyes and he’d grabbed me and held me as close as he could, brushing his lips over mine in a protective, yet possessive way.

Anyway, that night we’d walked into a high-end restaurant, our fingers entwined, with me leaning against him, just a little. As usual he’d been the perfect gentleman, pulling out my chair, settling my napkin in my lap and ordering wine for the both of us.

I made a face at him. “Wine?”

He laughed. “Wine is for celebrating.”

“I thought that was champagne?”

He snorted. “At one-hundred-and-fifty dollars a bottle, they can celebrate all the fuck they want. Without us.”

My lips twitched in a teasing smile. “You’re a cheap bastard you know that?”

He grimaced as he deposited his own napkin in his lap. “Hey, I had to take off work for this and drive my ass all the way up here.”

I only shook my head at him, soaking in the ambience of the restaurant. The candlelight flickered on the buttery yellow walls, sending shadows dancing across the stone fireplace in the center of the room. All around us there was a dull murmur of conversation.

We kept up our teasing banter for the rest of the night. I was dizzy, drunk on wine, but also on him.

He cleared his throat. “I have something for you, doll.”

I leaned forward, raising a single brow. “Oh really? Is it one of those things you’re gonna give me now…or…later?”

“You’re such a fucking harlot,” he said with a grin, clearing his throat.

The waitress came with our wine and took our orders. After she left Negan held up his glass and I followed suit.

“To new beginnings, doll,” he said, clinking his glass with mine.

I giggled nervously and drained the glass.

He raised his brow with a slight smile. “Slow down there, lightweight. I want you semi-sober so you’ll remember all the awesome fucking from tonight.”

I laughed. “I won’t get too drunk, silly….I have news.”

“Oh?” he asked leaning forward, fingertips stroking the hand resting on the table.

“I have an interview tomorrow with NCIS.”

His eyes widened. “Holy fucking shit. No way!”

I nodded, threading my fingers through his. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, doll. You did it on your own. I only kicked your ass once or twice.”

A giggle escaped my lips. “Or nearly everyday.”

“Or that. Damn, woman. You’ve worked hard. I’m mother fucking pumped for you.”

I flushed and looked down at the table. “You said you had something for me?”

The words engagement ring popped into my head, sending nervous curls down in my belly. He half stood and pressed his lips to mine over the table. As he pulled back his fingers slipped into his jacket pocket and he produced a ring sized box, placing it in my open palm and using his fingers to wrap mine around the soft, black velvet.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I gazed into those deep brown eyes.

“Fuckin open it already,” he said with a laugh as he sat back down.

I rubbed my fingertips over the soft, fringy velvet and used my thumb to push it open. My smile froze to my face when I saw a single pearl pendant, without a chain, nestled in the middle of the box. I licked my lips and forced a wide grin on my face. “It’s beautiful.”

Of course it was absolutely beautiful. But unexpected.

Negan shifted and wiped his palms on the front of his pants. “You like it?”

I cleared my throat of all wobbliness. “Yes, yes. It’s perfect.”

“I know you always wanted a set of pearls, and maybe one day I’ll add a bracelet and some earrings to that.”

Catching a glimpse of his face, I noted the worry crinkled between his brows and across his forehead. I was sincerely touched that he remembered the story about the pearls. I would just have to put the proposal idea on the back burner. We’d only been dating for two years. Neither one had mentioned marriage or kids or anything of the sort.

At that moment the waitress brought our dinner and I was glad for the distraction. I swept the box into my purse and popped a bite of pasta in my mouth, giving myself something to focus on. Fuck, I felt like an idiot.

“You okay, dollface? You look fucking red as fucking fuck.”

I looked up at him and sighed. I couldn’t ever hide anything from him. “I…I thought you were about to propose to me. I realize we haven’t talked about marriage or anything like that, it’s just…I’m being silly.”

I smiled earnestly up at him.

He knocked back the rest of his wine and grinned at me as he put the glass back on the table. “I don’t think my wife would like that very much, to be fucking honest.”

It was as if the rug had been pulled out from under my feet. A wave of dizziness rushed over me, crashing into me, dragging me back into the unforgiving ocean. Negan hadn’t noticed. He was too busy stuffing his face full of spaghetti.

“Your wife?” Somehow my voice had come out even and plain.

Negan said something, flashing those wolfish teeth at me. But my mind was too far away and the lacquer on my heart began to harden. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood.

“Dollbaby?”

I ignored him, pulling my last twenty out of my purse with trembling hands. Not even close enough to cover my half of the bill and I wouldn’t be able to grab a cab home.

“Nayna?”

People had begun to stare, but I couldn’t see them through my tunnel vision. All I wanted to do was run, with my heart hammering in my ears. Just run and run and run. Maybe I would wear my heart out.

I stumbled my way from the restaurant, the wine hitting me hard and fast, but I kept going. My heels clicked hard against the sidewalk as I went to the left. I had no idea where I was, aside from downtown DC, nor did I know how I would get home. Neither of those things seemed important to me. I just wanted to get away.

His wife…He was married. A single tear trickled down my cheek. Married. It all made sense. Why he never invited me to stay at his place. Why he refused to go on vacation with me during the summer. Why he’d refused to meet my family. His habit of paying for everything in cash.

How could I have been so stupid?

It was May, but the evening air was chilly against my bare arms. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, panting and confused as I wrapped my arms around myself.

It didn’t take Negan long to catch up with me, also panting and red faced. “What the fuck was that?”

I looked up at him, another tear sliding down my face. “You’re married.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, doll. I thought you knew.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like you wear a wedding ring or you know…told me you were married.”

He reached for me but I stepped back, awed at the hurt that crossed his face. “Doll…Come on.”

“How many others?”

“Nayna, stop it.”

I slapped his hand away. “How many others?”

“Just you two. You’re all I can handle, doll. You’re a tad high maintenance, if you fuckin know what I mean.”

I gazed at him, open mouthed. High maintenance…That stung worse than finding out he was married.

I hung my head in shame as several deep, rolling sobs came from my chest. I gave the term ugly cry a whole new meaning that night.

“Hey,” he said, sounded taken back. “Look, everything will be fine. I love you both and I want to be with you both…Nayna…”

“No! My name is not Nayna. I’m Meghan. Meghan you twatwaffling asshat!”

“Doll…”

“I hate you,” I sobbed. “I hate you and I never want to see you again.”


	14. Home Run

“Negan?”

He whirled about, bat still in the air. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week or more. I stared into those dark eyes until he turned back to the empty pitcher’s mound.  The bat swished through the air as he took a swing at nothing.

The bright lights of the field beat down on us, outlining his every move. I glanced behind me at the dark parking lot and sighed. I hadn’t wanted to come, but I had to. I hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever. I missed him so much. I missed us. And he needed me, just as Lucille said.

I wrapped my fingers around the fence mesh. “Can we talk?”

“Fuck off, Nayna.”

“I will after we talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. You didn’t even fucking call me after you got your fucking face beat in.”

I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets, shivering against the cool evening air. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

Another swing. “No, you’re so right, I didn’t want to fucking see you. It’s not like I fucking still love you or anything. Fuck.”

My heart skipped a beat and I leaned my forehead against the batters cage. “I still love you. Which is why I didn’t call you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.”

“You know, I think that fucking hurt worse. You not fucking calling. I…”

“Negan…Lucille told me.”

He whirled back to me, panting as he licked his bottom lip. “Told you what?”

“She’s dying.”

I curled my toes in my boots as the pain flashed across Negan’s face. All I wanted to do was run to him and throw my arms around him to make it all better. Press my lips against his…

He came up to the cage and curled his fingers over mine and pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

I closed my eyes, preventing the tears from falling. I couldn’t cry. I had no place crying. I wished that I knew what to do. Or what to say. Or how to feel. The only thing I knew was that I loved Negan and seeing him in that much pain hurt me.

“How am I supposed to live without her?”

I ignored the sting and pushed it away in favor of his pain. “Baby…I don’t know.”

Between the two of us Negan had always been the strong one. The one to prop me up when I fell. I didn’t know what to do for him. So I did the only thing I knew how to. I kissed him through the black mesh of the fence. It wasn’t a passionate, needy kiss. Just a simple, sweet brush of my lips against his.

He pulled away sharply and headed over to the bench. I followed him, grunting as my heels sunk in the mud. I stopped in front of him, looking down at him staring at the ground, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was obscured by the shadows. The pitcher’s mound was lit up, bright and almost cheery for a forlorn night. The dug out was cold and lonely and dreary, matching their moods.

All I needed were those puppy dog eyes, pleading for me to do something, to spurn me into action. I bent over and kissed him, hard. Normally, I let Negan take the lead, but he needed me so bad. He sank his hands in my hair and kissed back. My lips would been swollen and bruised the next day, but I didn’t give a fuck. All that mattered was the man in front of me now.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me down on his lap, facing him. His mouth found a space between my scarf and blouse and I whimpered as he attacked the swatch of bare skin with his teeth and lips and tongue.

I moved my hands from his shoulders to his face and pried him from my neck, tilting his head back to look me in the eyes. “What are you doing?”

His voice was husky when he spoke. “Making love to you.”

“Your wife…”

“She…I need you. Please. Meghan…Nayna…I need you.”

I glanced around. “Let’s go back to—”

“—no, here. Now.”

“If we get caught…”

“It’s nine at night, doll. No one is fucking coming.”

I waited for the joke, the innuendo. But he was looking at me with such seriousness and pain in his eyes that I let it slide. “It’s so cold.”

He moved my scarf aside and kissed my cleavage. “I’ll keep you warm.”

 “Okay…” I whispered, burying my fingers in his hair. I couldn’t lie, I wanted him, needed him too. If this is how he wanted to be comforted…

“Nayna…Nayna…” he said, lips against my skin, the hot air sending shivers down my body.

“Love,” I replied, pressing my lips to the crown of his head.

He kissed upwards until he reached my chin. My eyes fluttered shut, ready to feel his mouth on mine. I waited so long that I just had to open my eyes. When his fingers skimmed my cheek I winced.

“How?” he asked, his thumb tracing a line just under the gash.

“I was dumb. I met a witness without Sean there. He beat the holy hell out of me,” I said with a teasing smile that Negan did not reciprocate.

“You fucking know better,” he said, his voice full of anger and hurt.

“I do. I was dumb,” I said.

“How could you do that to me?”

“What?”

“I could have lost both of you,” he said and buried his face in my neck. His fingers untied my scarf.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer. I could never be close enough to him again.

“Don’t ever fucking do something like that again.”

“Never.”

Meanwhile, his fingers trailed down my coat, unfastening the buttons below my breasts and pushing it fully open.

He lifted his head from my neck and planted tiny kisses from my throat to my lips. Though he stopped and pulled back slightly.

“What is it?” I asked.

His eyes searched my face. “I love you.”

I smiled. “I know. I’ve always known you big ox.”

“I want…Please don’t leave me again,” he said.

I cupped his face in my hands. “I won’t, I won’t.”

“Nayna…”

“My love?”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with desire and need and love. “Let’s fucking make a baby.”

I should have pulled back. I should have insisted we talk about it. I should have listened to my brain. But it was my heart that won. I nodded. “Yes.”

Any second thoughts I had disappeared when he pulled me down and pressed his lips against mine in a sweet, sensual kiss that stirred the liquid fire in my blood. When his tongue swept into my mouth, all the fire nestled between my thighs, just waiting for him.

My hands dropped to his broad shoulders as I slipped closer to him. I could feel his hard on against my core, against the bright green panties I’d put on as a private joke that morning.

I ran my hands down his chest, down the hard muscles of his stomach and slipped them under the white cotton shirt. I sighed with pleasure as my fingers ran through the hairs on his torso. “You are one hairy bastard, you know that?”

He opened his eyes and squinted at me. “What?”

I leaned forward and caught his mouth with my own. “But I fucking love it. I especially love it when you don’t shave,” I said, grinning as I ran my cheek and lips over the stubble covering his face.

“Doll,” he groaned, cupping my ass and squeezing.

I stopped at his ear and whispered, “I want you inside of me. I need you, Negan. It’s been so long. I feel so empty inside.”

He growled and nipped my ear. “I’ll fucking fix that.”

Our lips found each other again, this time with far more anxiety and need. Our tongues swirled and danced in my mouth as he deepened the kiss. We both groaned and fought for dominance. Negan won…As always.

God, I was so wet. And I truly did ache for him. I’d missed him so much.

He pulled my blouse open, tucking the neckline under the wire of my bra. A chuckle escaped his lips.

I pulled back and looked down at him with half lidded eyes. “What?”

“You and this fucking ugly ass bra,” he said, fingering the ripped material. “It is the most un-fucking-sexy thing ever.”

“Well, firstly it makes my tits look great in this shirt and secondly, I didn’t expect to fuck you in the middle of the goddamn schoolyard.”

“Your tits look best without a fucking bra.”

I laughed as he bared them, shivering as a ripple of cold air hit my nipples, hardening them.

“Cold?”

I nodded and he grinned. “I’ll fucking fix that too.”

He cupped my breasts with his big, warm hands and began to tug at them and squeeze them. I groaned, pushing them harder into his hands.

Negan squeezed one, making my nipple stand at attention as he covered it with his hot, wet tongue. I hissed and grabbed his head, holding him there, moaning and writhing my hips against his erection, which also elicited a groan from him. But he never stopped.

Using his teeth, tongue and lips, he drove me crazy, made me beg him to touch me, ignoring me as I whimpered. He moved to the other breast and used the same technique. By the time he was finished I was nearly a puddle of mush.

The fire between my legs burned bright and hot and all I wanted was his touch. And that motherfucker knew it. Even in his pain, his hurt, his need for comfort he still wanted to tease, to taste, to taunt.

“P-p-please, Negan.”

“If you insist,” he said, with a grin. I nodded eagerly.

Grasping my thighs, he slid his fingers upward, dragging my skirt along with them until it was rolled around my waist. He dipped his fingers underneath my green panties and stroked my lower lips. I moaned and pressed myself into his hand, arching my back so my breasts were aligned with his face. He jerked forward and popped a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking in time with his fingers.

My fingers curled into the shoulders of his jacket as I bent further backwards, Negan’s arm around my waist was the only thing preventing me from falling backwards. It didn’t take long for me to reach my peak once he began to rub my clit. Though, as I came my moans grew deeper, throatier and more guttural. Something that always drove Negan wild. Tonight was no exception.

He kissed me hard, shoving his tongue in my mouth while he began to unbuckle his belt with one hand. I hurriedly unsnapped his jeans and undid his zipper, sliding my own hand into his pants, rubbing his hardness through his boxer briefs.

His panting in my ear only made me rub harder and harder until he was begging me to take it out, to which I happily obliged and raised myself on my knees. Both of his hands came to rest on my hips and I pressed my forehead to his, staring deeply into those gorgeous hazel eyes of his.

“I want you,” I said.

And then…he was inside me. I closed my eyes as he bucked his hips upwards, grunting with every thrust, clinging to me as if I were apt to run away at any moment. I turned my face and kissed him, trying to reassure him that I wasn’t going anywhere, but he continued his almost panic movements, hands tightening around my waist.

“Squeeze me, Nayna.”

I obeyed and he threw his back, groaning loudly. I did it again and again until he came inside of me, crying out my name and telling me he loved me.


	15. Nayna's Origin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may know, my husband deployed over the summer. Writing helped me tremendously throughout the deployment. Now that he's back, I've been a little distracted to say the least ;) However, I've been diligently working on my projects, without much updating, for which I do apologize.   
> Anyway, I decided to get with the times (sorta?) and I made a Tumblr. Here is the link: https://lovingzombiechaos.tumblr.com/ (Hilariously, that is the name Tumblr chose for me so I decided to keep it). Beware, there are comic book spoilers on there since I'm an avid fan of the comics. There will eventually be things about writing and currently there is a small biography about me if you're interested.  
> Also, I wanted to say, when I started TPWP last year, I never expected the whole 'doll' thing to catch on. I was looking for something out of the ordinary for Negan to call Nayna to distinguish her from the other wives. I didn't realize how big it was until I read another tumblr saying Negan calling the love interest doll was cliche. Of course I googled and now I'm highly amused and flattered.   
> To wrap it all up here: Thanks for reading and sticking with me. You guys make writing so much more fun. Please check out my other works: The Price We Pay (revised edition, still being written), The Threat Beyond (the sequel to TPWP), If You Think You Can (a story about a murderess Negan meets near the beginning of the apocalypse) and my newest story Lost at Sea (a few stranded by the events of the end of the world struggling to survive while the leader tries to find his wife). Also stay tuned for Back to Before, Nayna's beginning adventures with the group.  
> Thank you guys, love you all!

He came up behind me, sliding his fingers along my collarbones until his hands grabbed my shoulders. His breath whispered across the skin of my neck. “What in the fucknuts are you doing?”

The girl at the next table over glared at us, but Negan ignored her, preferring to hang over me, and rub his stubbled face over my cheek. I held back a purr and leaned back against him. “World of Warcraft.”

“Oh god, you’re one of those fuckin nerds aren’t you?”

I looked back at him to find his eyes twinkling and those goddamn dimples flashing my way. He leaned forward and nuzzled my nose, making me giggle.

The girl huffed and gathered up her things, glaring at us the whole time. Negan grinned at her and waved as she stomped off. “So touchy,” he said, lips skimming my jawline.

“You’re being loud,” I pointed out.

Those fingers that had been stroking my shoulder but a moment before were now creeping down the front of my shirt. “Speaking of touching…Let’s get out of here so I can touch you.”

The thrill that threatened to bubble over shot straight between my thighs. I slammed my laptop shut and stuffed it into my bag, which of course Negan snatched right up and threw it over my shoulder. He slipped a possessive arm around my waist and led me from the library, salivating and craving over his magic touch.

I burst out with nervous giggles when he cupped my ass and squeezed. His own laughter mingled with mine as we jumped into my car.

I smiled over at him. “Where to?”

He didn’t answer me, instead he stared at me with those glittering, shining eyes. My smile faded ever so slightly. He reached over for me and curled his fingers around the back of my head. “Fucking God. You’re so beautiful,” he said before reeling me in for a balmy, disordered kiss.

Our tongues clashed together, swirling, dancing, diving. Negan’s usual passionate lust, had turned into some my nineteen year old brain couldn’t fathom sober, much less dizzy and drunk from his demanding lips and tongue. Something felt off. Yet, I wanted it more. I wanted his touch even more than he knew.

Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I guided his hand over my breast and groaned into his mouth as he seized it in a vice-like grip.  He replied with a deep, throaty moan of his own, which sent a rush of muggy heat between my thighs.

He pulled me closer with his other arm, groping around for my ass.

We jumped apart at the loud crashing sound on the car window. Negan’s brow twitched and hard lines appeared on his face momentarily, but he turned to the cop and rolled down the window. “Yes, officer?”

“You two want to take this somewhere else?”

Negan smirked and put his hand on my thigh. “Yes, sir.”

I rolled down my window as well and let the cool air flow over my heated face as I backed up and pulled out of the lot with Negan gripping my thigh.

We stopped in a little secluded parking lot, just outside a wooded walking trail, with no one in sight. I giggled at the naughty aspect of potentially getting caught. Negan looked at me and a slow, knowing smiled spread across his face.

I got out of the car and motioned for him to stop. Sauntering around the car, I smiled at him. I’d been researching and boy did I have a surprise for him. I opened the car door and knelt in front of him. His black brows shot up into his widows peak. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I reached for his zipper, laughing. “What does it look like?”

As I dragged it down, Negan let out a long hiss. “Fuuuuuck.”

Sliding my fingers in, I searched for him, grinning when he hardened in my hand. I pulled him out with several long, antagonizing strokes. A thrill of pleasure jolted down my spine when he threw back his head and groaned.

“Do you like that?” I asked innocently. In return he gave me the no fucking shit, look that always made me feel like it was an inside joke between the two of us.

I continued to move my hand up and down, watching him squirm and writhe with delight.

“Fuck!” He roared as I leaned down and lowered my lips around him.

Part of me wanted to shhh him, but the other part of me was intrigued. How loud could I make him moan? Guess I would just have to keep going and see.

He buried his fingers in my hair with his nails digging into my scalp; an erotic kind of pain that tightened my groin.

Coming to a rhythm that Negan was satisfied with, my gaze flicked upwards to watch him. His eyes had closed some time ago and his lips parted for his tongue, which rested on his lower lip. His chest heaved nearly every time I slid my lips down. Each time I would go a little further, and his brows would slope even more.

Grasping his hips, I fully lowered myself, taking him deep into my throat, my nose practically touching his pelvis. His fingernails scraped along the back of my head as he tried to lift himself further in my mouth.

“God fucking damnit. Fuck. Fuck.”

I chuckled, which only made him groan more, echoing throughout the lonely park.

He panted. “Can’t…”

And then he spurted thick, hot jets of his orgasm straight down my throat. I jerked back, coughing and spluttering as he finished on my cheek and lips.

He opened his eyes and grinned down at me. “Holy fucking shit, I thought you were beautiful before, but seeing you fucking covered with my jizz is fucking almost enough to make Little Negan ready for round two.”

He reached into the glove compartment and snatched a few napkins, wiping my cheek and my mouth. I giggled at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Me, on my knees, in the woods, covered in the come of my boyfriend who was eleven years older than me. Never in a million years did I think it would happen.

He dragged me into his lap and pressed a fierce kiss against my mouth while his hands roamed over my thighs and my ass and my tits.

“Your turn,” he whispered, fingering the waist band of my jeans. “And you’re not fucking allowed to say no.”

With that, he slid his fingers into my jeans and then into my panties and made me pant and writhe against his solid chest. I buried my face in his neck as he made me come, alternating between a whimper and a shout.

As he dragged his fingers from me, I chanced a look at his face, flushing at the wanton expression of hunger that sparkled in his dark eyes. He held my gaze as he popped his fingers into his mouth, pushing them in and out, sucking my wetness away.

I ran my fingers up and down his chest as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Hot.”

“So are you,” he said and bent down for another tongue filled kiss.

I sat back on his knees and watched him watching me, the slightest of smirks on his face.

“What now, dollface?”

“Cuddle?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking girl.”

But he cradled me against his chest anyway, tipping the seat back, so that I was on top of him. Stroking my fingers over his jawline, I nestled in closer. “Talk to me.”

His own fingers trailed the bare skin of my neck, sending goosebumps popping across my skin. “About what, doll?”

I laughed. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck was that game you were playing in the library?”

I plucked his shirt. “Oh, just…World of Warcraft.”

He twisted his fingers in my hair. “The fuck is World of Warcraft? I fucking hear about it non-fucking stop at school.”

“It’s a game.”

He snorted. “Wow, doll, you should be a fucking writer.”

“I mean, it’s an MMORPG.”

He raised a brow at me. “The fuck is that?”

“Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. You know….Zelda?”

“Which one?”

“Any of them. They’re RPGs and World of Warcraft is similar, only you play it with a fuckton of other people.”

“Wait, you’re playing it with other—oh, fucking Multiplayer Online,” he said with a grunt, shifting me slightly.

I perched my chin on his chest and smiled. “No one else I know plays, so I just play with a bunch of random people.”

He ran his knuckles up and down my back. “Ever thought of getting out?”

“Only with you,” I teased.

He closed his eyes. “Aren’t I fuckin lucky?”

Unsure of his motives, I stayed silent.

“So what do you do while you’re playing with other people?”

“Oh, um, I just quest. Save people. Gather crap. The usual RPG stuff,” I said airily.

“Your character have a name?”

“Erm, yes.”

“You name it Meghan after yourself?”

A bark of nervous laughter coming from my throat made Negan’s eyes open. “I mean, no…”

“What’s her name?”

I buried my face in his pleasant smelling chest. “It’s embarrassing.”

He sat up, supporting me with one arm, while feeling for the seat lever. “Well, now you fucking have to tell me.”

“Oh god…Don’t make me.”

“Do it, or I’ll never do this again,” he said, brushing my lips with his own, making me whine.

“Alright, alright.”

Negan raised his brows. “Wow, that easy?”

“Well, I mean, I love kissing…you…”

As if I hadn’t embarrassed myself enough, talking about WoW and shit…

He tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “Go on.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s Nayna.”

“Nayna? That’s not really embarrassing. A little fuckin silly, but it’s cute.”

“My cousin used to call his brother Nay Nay. Short for Nathan. For some stupid reason the name always stuck with me and I wanted people to call me that, even though I was too shy to ask them to call me that. I used Nay Nay on a lot of my gamerthings and well…I dropped the last Y and make it just Nayna…It sounded more….grown up. You can’t tell me that’s not embarrassing, Negan.”

I could feel his entire body quaking and shaking against me. “That’s motherfuckin’ adorable, doll.”

“Shut up,” I said, equally trying not to laugh as I pressed my face further into his chest. “It’s not fucking funny.”

He tilted my face upwards, thumbs stroking over my brows. “C’mon, doll. We’ve all done embarrassing shit when we were younger and you’re still fucking young.”

I opened my eyes and wrinkled my nose up at his grinning face. “You’re starting to sound old.”

He cleared his throat, going into story mode. I rolled my eyes.

“When I was your age—”

“—yup, you are definitely sounding old—”

“—shut up, you’re going to ruin my awesome fucking story here. Anyway,” he said as I held up my hands in mock self-defense. “I was at a bar and I saw this insanely hot chick—”

“—really? You’re going to tell me about some hot chick you picked up?”

“Doll,” he sighed theatrically. “Can I just finish the fucking story?”

I waved at him and he continued.

“I was at a bar and I saw this dude with a box. Thought he was selling roses, so being the fucking smooth ass twenty-year-old that I thought I was, I handed the dude some money and pointed to the fucking hot ass chick across the room. He bobs his fucking head up and down and walks over to her and proceeds to fucking pull out a box of fucking crispy chicken. The guy next to me practically busted his nut laughing at me and even the chick laughed too.”

I snorted. “Wait, fried chicken? In a bar?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grinned with a shrug. “Something tells me he wasn’t right in the head.”

“That’s not THAT embarrassing,” I said, splaying my palm on his chest. “Funny, but not embarrassing.”

“Maybe not to you, but that hurt my twenty year old pride. I couldn’t show my face in that bar for at least a year.”

I giggled. “That’s terrrrible. Meanwhile, I’m over here saying ‘thanks, love you’ to the cashier at Target and dying a little inside. I can never go back there again.”

“Jesus, doll. You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that right?” he said, though there was a hint of affection and pride in his voice.

I looked down with the tiniest of smiles. “So are you. Buying a woman random ass chicken. If I were her, I would have thought ‘oh…this motherfucker must want to kill me.’”

“Hey, I’ll fucking have you know, she went home with me.”

“Oh, really? Well isn’t that lovely.”

He held my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, don’t be jealous. I’m here with you now…Nayna.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god, don’t you dare start calling me that.”

“What? You want me to fucking call you Nayna all the time? I fucking will then. Nayna.”

“Ugggh, I haaate you.”

“Nah, you could never fucking hate me.”

Motherfucker was right.


	16. Peeing on Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, kudos, subscribe, bookmark! Also follow me on tumblr at https://lovingzombiechaos.tumblr.com/

My clothes stuck to my slick skin as the sweat trickled from my forehead, down my breasts and belly.

The day was warm for December, with the sun shining high and bright in the sky, nearly blinding me during my morning run.

As I jogged back up my street, I noticed Negan’s car in my driveway. Odd. It wasn’t his normal Saturday. Oh god, maybe something happened to Lucille. My heart contracted and I swallowed the rising bile from my belly. Anxiously, I tugged my phone from my pocket and slowed down to a brisk walk as I checked for messages. Nothing.  So fucking odd.

“Babe?” I called out as I pushed the door open, peering around the foyer corner.

“In here,” he called from the dining room, sounding cheerful and upbeat. Despite my reservations about our make-up, I smiled as I rounded the corner. I stopped when I saw the bags on the table.

“You moving in?” I asked sardonically, raising my brow.

Negan pushed himself up from the table and strode over to kiss me on the forehead. “No, I just didn’t want Lucille to see this stuff.”

“See what?”

His grin was puppy doggish, reminding me of Strawberry’s eagerness. I leaned into him, and smiled back. He gave me a gentle squeeze and set me on my feet before rummaging through one of the gym bags on the table.

My heart dropped when he pulled out a pink box. “Hun, I don’t…”

He pushed it in my hands and I turned the pregnancy test box over and over, seemingly studying it.

“Please? I just want to make sure, doll.”

I grimaced up at him. “I really doubt it, love. Look,” I said with a sigh, setting the box on the table, “I think maybe we need to give this a little more thought.”

“Please?”

I heard the strain in his voice. Instinctively, I slid my fingers into his. What would it hurt taking one test? At the very least I could do that for him. I held out my other hand. “Okay.”

He set it in my open palm. “When was the last time you peed?”

I turned the box over to read the instructions. “Can’t we keep some things a mystery?”

“I’ve seen you pee before. Plus it’s not fucking like I’m not going to see you shitting on the birthing table in nine fucking months anyway.”

I skimmed over the directions as I snorted at him. “Oh really? What makes you think I’m gonna want you there watching me do the shitting?”

“Because it’s my fucking kid!”

“Joke, love, joke.”

He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, herding me towards the bathroom. “Will you just pee on the fucking test, please?”

“I’m going—are you seriously going to fucking follow me?”

“I want to see.”

I stopped in the hall and leaned back to raise my brows at him. “You want to see?”

“I mean, not you pissing. I want to watch the fucking test.”

I shook my head and shuffled down the hall. “You’re just going to be disappointed, love.”

“Shut up and pee,” he groused as he followed me in the bathroom.

“You’re really going to stand there and watch…”

I rolled my eyes and peed on the damned stick. Negan busted out laughing when I ended up peeing on my hand.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try to aim for the fucking stick while squatting, asshole.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, staring hungrily at the stick. I held it out to him and he grimaced as he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

I pulled up my pants and flushed the toilet. “You’re supposed to keep it flat.”

He laid it gingerly on the granite sink as I moved beside him to wash my hands. He slid his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder, eyes glued to the stupid fucking test.

“Three minutes,” I said, also fixated on the stick, watching the pink dye glide across the little window and come to a halt at the control line.

There was no second line, even after the three minute mark. Negative. Though it was probably for the best, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him.

He shook his head. “No, you tried to tell me.”

Standing on tiptoe, I pressed my mouth against his. “Is this what you really want, Negan? Or do you just want to make me happy? To…give me the world?”

With his face buried in my hair he sighed. “I want to give you the world. I want to give you a baby. I want you to be fucking happy, doll.”

I turned and raised my head to look at him. “I am very happy with you, my love. I don’t need a baby to be happy. You’re enough. Plus…I don’t want you to give me a baby simply because I want one. You need to want it for yourself, otherwise, you’ll regret it.”

He studied me for a moment and then rubbed his thumb along the line of my jaw, making me shiver which in turn made him smile. “I do. I want to fucking teach my son how to hit a baseball or fucking…play tea party with my daughter.”

The mental image of my giant boyfriend, hunched over, holding a tiny teacup in one hand with his pinky raised made me simultaneously tear up and giggle at the same time. He grinned down at me. “I want a dark-eyed little girl with dimples and spunk or a little boy with my chin and hair and your heart.”

I smiled at the picture of our two imaginary children. “You want two?”

“I want however many we have, doll.”

“And what if we have a girl and she wants to play baseball?”

“Well, I guess I have to teach her how to not throw like a girl and hit like a man.”

That was the answer I’d been looking for. I pulled him down to me and we kissed and caressed each other for a long time, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

Finally, Negan rested his forehead against mine. “Doll…You smell fucking awful.”

“Always the charmer,” I said, laughing. “Start me a bath?”

“Shower.”

“No, I want to take a bath,” I insisted as I peeled the layers of clothes from my body.

“But I don’t fucking want you to raise your body temperature too much. It’s not good—“

“—stop right there.” I held up my hand. “Don’t start with the do’s and do not’s. I swear, I will beat the holy fuckity fucking fuck out of you.”

“But, doll,” he whined, “I’m trying to take care of you...Also, I don’t know how comfortable I am with you running.”

I pushed him away and started the water. “You get no say in the matter. And even if you did, right now, I need to pass my physical fitness test. Which includes weight lifting and running. If I don’t pass, I don’t’ have a job. No job, no health insurance, to way to pay the bills, nowhere for me or any potential baby to live. Unless…” I shot him a dark amused look. “Unless you want me living with my mother.”

He squinted at me, as if he was unsure whether or not to take me seriously. “Why not move in with Lexie?”

I stepped in the tub and lowered myself down. “Um, yeah okay. That would go over quite well. You know what Lexie calls you right?”

“No. I’m sure you find it fucking hilarious though.”

I grinned. “She calls you the whore.”

He spluttered. “What the fuck does she call me?”

I chortled at his reddening face. “The whore.”

“And you fucking let her?”

I picked up the bar of soap and began to lather my legs. “I seem to remember you referring to her as Bitch Incarnate. To her face.”

“It was an accident! Anyway, I fucking apologized.”

“An accident? How do you call someone Bitch Incarnate accidentally?”

“I mean, I didn’t fucking mean for her to hear me,” he said, slightly sheepish.

Rubbing my arms, I shook my head. “You know, you’re fucking ridiculous. Anyway, Lexie is not overly fond of you annnd she has about a thousand kids already.”

He sat on the edge of the tub, staring intently as I passed the bar over my breasts. Typical Negan. He reached over and plucked the soap out of my hands. “Here, you fucking look like you need help with that.”

I reclined against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes as he worked his magic hands over my breasts and nipples. My fingers stroked over my belly and down to the cleft between my legs.

“Fuck yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself,” he whispered in my ear. I came for him in less than two minutes, and his smirk told me that he still knew what buttons to push.

I returned the favor with my mouth, taking all of him down to my throat and back out again. I eagerly swallowed what he gave me, never breaking eye contact with him. I loved the way his lashes fluttered, the way his brow contracted or the way his face wrinkled up—almost as if he needed to sneeze—when he came.

“Fucking fuck. I should have fucked you,” he panted, smoothing a hand over my hair.

I perched my chin on the edge of the bathtub. “Why?”

“That was a waste of perfectly fucking good jizz.”

I chuckled. “Oh love, it wouldn’t have mattered. I just got off that time of the month. It’s too early for all that.”

Mollified, he settled himself on the floor beside me, entwining his fingers through my hair as he pressed his forehead to my temple.

“What’s in the rest of the bags?”

He perked up. “I bought you—us—some books, a thermometer, prenatals, a birth video, lube to help with conception…”

I knew I must have been giving him a look because of the dopey expression on his face. “You really went all out didn’t you?”

He shrugged and looked down at his hands. “I don’t fucking have much going for me right now. My fucking wife is dying. Got written up for ‘cussing’ a kid out afterschool. Working extra hours to make up for all the fucking medical bills. And even then it’s still not enough since she’s too fucking sick to work right now.”

If Negan was admitting all this aloud to me, it meant the situation was nearly dire. I pressed my fingers into his hand. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“Medical debt. How much?”

“Too fucking much.”

I thumped him on the head. “Come on, babe.”

He picked lint from his sweats and flicked it away. “At least thirty fucking thousand and piling up.”

I frowned and nibbled on my thumbnail. “Okay, do me a favor? Asked for an itemized bill from the hospital. Bring it to me and we can go over it and try to fucking talk them down. Sometimes they bill for stupid shit.”

“You don’t fucking have to do that. You have enough on your plate.”

I grasped his chin and turned his face to mine. “I would do anything for you, Negan. I have sixty thousand in the bank right now.”

“Sixty…how the fuck did you come by all that?”

“Saved and…well…my mom’s dad died and left me a bit.”

“Wait, when the fuck was this?”

I swiped my nose. “When we weren’t together. Sorry, it sorta slipped my mind. It’s not like I really have anything to do with my family very much. I’m surprised that I was mentioned in his will at all.”

“Jesus fucking hell…”

“Sixty-thousand. And I would give it all to you if it would save Lucille. Every penny. And then some.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight white line. He couldn’t look at me, wouldn’t look at me, so I wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. And so he wouldn’t see the truth in mine.

No matter what we did, Lucille was going to die. And soon.


	17. The Meeting

“Thank you for meeting me,” Lucille said as I sat down across from her in the quaint little coffee shop.

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon. Negan was at an away game with his students, and I wasn’t on call that day. I’d thought about declining, but part of me was curious to know what she wanted from me.

Knowing that she was dying sent my anxiety to an all-time high. At one point I wished she wasn’t in the picture anymore, and now I worried that I had wished this on her. I’d never wanted her to die as much as Negan to leave her for me. There was not a damn thing I could do about it, and it hurt me terribly.

I smoothed my skirt over my thighs. “Of course. Is there…what can I do for you?”

She smiled at me and adjusted her headscarf. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not going to bite your head off. I actually need a favor from you. A few favors.”

I folded my hands in my lap, leaning forward with my shoulders hunched and my knee bouncing. “Yes?”

The waitress wandered over and put a cup of coffee in front of Lucille. She looked at me and I ordered something off the menu without even paying attention. My heart bumped an unsteady rhythm as I watched her walking away.

Lucille cleared her throat. “As you know, Negan isn’t practical.”

I raised a brow. “The Negan I know is…”

She smiled again. “He’s pragmatic, yes. But I know him and…when it comes time for things to…when I am no longer able to make my own decisions, that burden falls to my husband.”

I flushed at those words and nodded, stung and yet annoyed at myself.

She took a sip of her coffee. “Knowing him as I do, I know he’ll want to do everything to prevent the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?”

“He’ll want to prolong my life, no matter what. And while I understand why, it’s not something I desire for myself,” she said with a slight cough.

My heart sank. I had an idea of where she was going with it, but I played along with her. “What does this have to do with me?”

The waitress wandered over with a steaming cup of something. She looked between us but Lucille spoke up. “Water for her. She looks a little pale.”

How could I look pale when my face felt so hot?

Lucille watched the waitress saunter back into the kitchen. When she spoke, she didn’t look at me. “Meghan…I want you to be my power of attorney.”

I had been in the middle of taking a sip of the cappuccino in front of me and subsequently inhaled it. Between coughing fits I managed to splutter, “Wait, what?”

“Are you alright?” She made to touch me, but I waved her off, still coughing. I made a gesture for her to go on and she sighed. “This isn’t what I ever dreamed of, but it’s what I need. From what I can tell, you’re a practical girl and you’ve stood up to Negan before. I need an advocate for my care. I want things to enhance the quality of my time left, not things to prolong my life. Nothing painful. Nothing of the extreme.”

I pushed the drink away from me, taking in several deep breaths, the remnants of the cough still sounding in my voice. “Don’t you have family?”

She smiled wryly and shook her head. “They’d all do the same as Negan would. And even a living will won’t always prevent the hospital from listening to a grieving spouse.”

The waitress brought over my water and I eagerly gulped it down. After a few moments I asked, “Would a POA be any different, though?”

Lucille shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’d rather have both, you know? I can file it with the hospital in advance and we’ll go from there.”

“I just don’t understand why it should be me…”

Not only did I understand it, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to crawl back into my hole and go back to the way things were before. Where I could pretend Negan didn’t have another woman or another life without me.

“Negan loves you. Negan trusts you. You’re a good girl, and when you were in the hospital last month, I knew you’d stand up to do what’s right. I need that. Will you?”

I heard the pleading in her voice and I nodded. How could I say no to the woman whose husband I’d been with for almost eleven years?

After a pregnant pause, with my fingernails catching the cracks on the table, I gathered my wits about me. “What else did you need from me?”

All I wanted to do was escape. The sooner the better.

Her smile softened, lighting up her face. “Afterward…Tell Negan to sell the house. Have him move in with you. He will need someone to look after him. I don’t mean folding laundry, or doing things for him. I mean his emotional well-being. Make sure he’s not too melancholy, make sure he’s eating…that kind of stuff…And if he asks, marry him.”

My mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. “Marry? I don’t…I…”

Lucille slid her hand across the table and covered my own tapping, twitching hand. “I don’t resent you anymore. As I told you before, I’m glad Negan has you. You of all people. Meghan…I forgive you.”

I had to look away as I blinked back tears. I concentrated on the window, thing s blurring in and out of focus. Outside there was a happy little family with a little girl in a blue dress, tugging on her father’s hand as her mother held a chubby, smiling baby, watching her daughter and husband point at puppies in the window. That could be us. My heart contracted and the first tear fell onto my cheek. Lucille’s hand tightened around mine and I pulled it back.

“Honey,” she said, and reached up to brush my tears away in a very Negan-like way. I hung my head in shame. Here she was, dying, cool and calm and collected and I was blubbering like a child. I was her husband’s mistress and she forgave me. What kind of backwards hellicious dream did I wake up in?

Here she was, dying with dignity and I would have everything I’d ever wanted. But this wasn’t the price I wanted to pay. I knew I would never compare with her, and that would forever throw a wrench in our already troubled relationship; and to add marriage and a child? If I were smart I’d tell Negan no more baby making.

But no one said I was smart.

She squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the present.

“Please don’t,” I whispered, finally the shame of eleven years of deception catching up with me. I started to rise, but she was faster, pushing me back down into the chair and stuffing a napkin in my hand.

“She’s fine,” Lucille said, waving off the waitress who had come swooping in. “A little emotional. You know how pregnant women can be.”

My head snapped up. She knew? Fucking, fuck Negan. Another wave of pain hit me, and the tears began to pour in earnest. Lucille clucked and fussed over me as the waitress openly stared.

“I’m not…I’m fine,” I said after what felt like an eternity.

Lucille glanced over at the waitress. “More water, please?”

The woman nodded and stormed into the kitchen, seemingly pissed she had to miss the delicious drama in front of her. Good fucking riddance.

I hiccupped, wiping my face. “I’m not pregnant.” I licked my lips and fixated my stare just above her head.  “I just…I’m sorry. I wish I had said it before. I wish I could make it up to you. I wish I had cancer and not you.”

She shook her head at me. “No. Because I’m not strong like you. I couldn’t be in your place while Negan mourned for you.”

Picking up her napkin she twiddled it between her fingers. I couldn’t help but stare at her hands. Hands that cupped Negan’s face. Hands that probably held him tight. And once again I hated myself for being jealous of his dying wife.

Lucille wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin back on the table. “Getting sick has put things into perspective. Before, I used to hate you, I used to think you were a terrible person. I couldn’t stand the thought of Negan touching you or being near you. Now,” she smiled sadly at me. “Now, more than ever, I am thankful that when I’m gone he’ll have you…and maybe something else.”

My face bloomed and I looked away.

“I hope it happens for you. It never happened for us. I think that’s part of what drove him away. We tried for so many years and it never happened. We grew apart from each other. It hit him pretty hard. Made him think he was less of a man.”

I sipped my water in an attempt to keep my hands occupied. “Less of a man? I’m not sure I understand.”

“We saw a bunch of fertility specialists. Went through a dozen or more tests only to find out that Negan has a very low sperm count.”

Suddenly, his intense enthusiasm made sense. All the conception books and positions and tips. He was trying to boost my fertility to make up for his sperm count. My heart hurt for him. No wonder he’d said no to having a baby before. He didn’t want the same constant disappointment he’d faced with Lucille.

I part of me couldn’t help but feel angry at him. Why hadn’t he told me? I would have understood. Once I thought he told me everything. He’d promised to after we’d gotten back together. No more secrets…

She stood up and dropped a couple of bills on the table. “I really must be off. The meeting is with my attorney, tomorrow at noon. Will you be able to make it?”

I nodded, not really focusing on what she was saying.

“It’s a sad day when the only person I trust is my husband’s mistress,” she said, running her fingers over my shoulder as she brushed past. I could hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but I couldn’t even muster a smile. “Tomorrow. Noon. McGrady’s. Thank you, Meghan.”

I watched her get into her—no, Negan’s—car and drive off. What the hell had I just agreed to?

I played with the straw, flicking it back and forth and then stirring the water as I mulled over what she’d said and what Negan had promised me when we’d gotten back together. And here I was, catching him in another lie. Another lie where I’d have to decide whether or not it was worth it to forgive him. Would I always be questioning him?

On one hand, I ached for him, knowing how he must have felt and why he would have wanted to keep it from me. If there was one thing Negan couldn’t stand, it was pity. And especially not from a woman. On the other hand, he’d made me that promise and I couldn’t help but feel betrayed. All I ever wanted to do was love Negan, and he made it so hard for me.


	18. The Moon and Fucking Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :cough: only fourish more chapters left <3

“God, Meghan, you should be happy! You’re going to FLETC tomorrow. You’re about to start your fucking dream job! Why are you moping around in those fugly man-hater sweats?” Claire asked. She plopped down beside me and handed me a beer.

I recoiled as I caught the stench under her arms. “Jesus, at least I’m wearing deodorant.”

She sniffed her pits. “It’s natural.”

I snorted. “Au naturale, you mean?” I snatched the beer from her and took a long swig. As usual, it tasted like a mixture of wheat and horse piss. Claire laughed at my face and snagged the beer back.

“Come on, girl. Get off my fucking couch,” she said, digging her feet under my ass. “Let’s dress up like whores and go clubbing.”

“Ugh, clubbing where?”

“DC! Dumbass.” She tried to lift me with just her toes, but I remained immovable.

“Fuck.that.shit. If you want me to go out, it’s either the Thirsty Turtle or fucking Five Guys.”

She rolled her eyes in the most dramatic fashion. “We’re not in fucking college anymore, Meggie.”

“Because clubbing is so much more grown up?” I said, propping my head against the back of the couch and rolling it back and forth.

“Fine, the Thirsty Turtle. But you wear what I pick out for you.”

I groaned. “No, the last time you made me wear that hemp shit I broke out in a rash that didn’t fucking go away for three weeks.”

“You did that to yourself. I’m not convinced it wasn’t psychosomatic. Anyway, I’ve got just the thing,” she said, jerking her feet from under me and practically skipping to my bedroom.

I heard her in there muttering to herself. “No, no, no…Girlfriend you dress like a motherfucking nun. Why did you work so hard to get that fucking hot body if you’re not going to fucking flaunt the shit out of it?” She shouted to me.

I took another swig of the beer that Claire left on the couch. Still wheaty horse piss. Normally, I would be having a fucking fit at someone pawing through my things, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to give a fuck.

The tiniest part of me worried how well I would do at FLETC with all the classes and the studying and I couldn’t even take a fucking shower.

As I was mulling this over, a flying piece of fabric hit me in the back of the head. Looking at it, I shook my head. “No, this is too fucking short. I meant to take it back.”

“Doll, you’re—oh fuck, Meghan I’m sorry!”

I stared at the piece of fabric, running my thumbs over it. It wasn’t too short. It just was the dress I’d been wearing when I left Negan. The combination of Claire accidentally calling me doll and the reappearance of the dress made my vision blurry.

Married…Hell, he probably even had a fucking kid or two. And he called me high maintenance. I had given him two years, my heart and my fucking virginity. And suddenly, I was pissed. I looked up at Claire’s upset face.

“Honey, I didn’t mean…”

“Where are the FMPs?” I asked, my voice sounding far away and wavy.

“You going out?”

I looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I fucking am.”

 

I let Claire drag me all over the fucking place, in the short red dress, with that fucking pearl pendant he’d given me, nestled in my ample amounts of cleavage. Hell, I flirted and teased, suddenly confident now that I was fucking leaving the next day.

I ended up so drunk, I forgot to object to the Mexican restaurant on the stupid lakeside. We sat at the same motherfucking table, drinking margaritas and shit talking Negan.

“And then he tells me he’s fucking married. Who the fuck does that?!”

Claire, her vegan ways temporarily forgotten as she jammed some beef, cheese and nacho combination in her mouth, nodded. “Who the fuck does do that? Actually, he wears fucking sweatpants and collared shirts. Who does that?!”

I roared with laughter. “It’s awful!”

“And the way he says fuck all the time!”

“He told me one that he likes to sprinkle it on for a more magical effect.”

“He actually fucking said that?” Claire inhaled part of her margarita and we both fell into peals of laughter.

We paid the bill and stumbled out onto the lake.

“God, and he took me out to this fucking lake and kissed me. And my stupid self thought it was perfect and beautiful and fuck me and my nineteen year old self!”

I was just about to show Claire exactly where we had stood when I noticed him, hunched over the railing.

“Holy shit!” I said, far louder than I intended to. Negan looked up and stood, slowly, watching me the whole time.

“Oh fuck, Meggie, there he fucking is.”

I shoved my bag at her. “Hold my purse.”

“Why?”

“I’ma go punch him in his fuck smarmy, smug, fuckity face.”

“Just don’t get fucking caught. Can’t go to FLETC if you’re in jail,” she called out after me.

 

I woke up the next morning, naked, with Negan’s warm skin pressed against my back. A shot of fear ran through my body. Did we have sex? Looking under the covers, I noticed Negan wearing underwear. He never bothered to get dressed after we fucked. Nor did I have the familiar ache between my thighs.

“Hey,” he murmured against the back of my head. “You feel okay?”

Sitting up, I blinked at the shining white light, fluttering through the open curtains. Behind me, I heard him chuckle as he slipped out of bed and closed them, leaving us in semi-darkness. My head pounded in time with my heart and I belched several times.

Negan padded away and came back shortly with a bagel, cream cheese, three Advil migraine and an ice cold diet coke.

“Not quite the fucking cure, but as close as I could come,” he said sheepishly.

I merely grunted at him and began to shove the bagel in my mouth, and gulped down the Advil and the coke. After a few minutes I felt better and glanced up at him. He sat behind me, perching on the edge of the bed.

I groaned and rubbed my head as he stroked my bare back. “What the fuck happened?”

He tucked my hair behind my ears. “You came over to me, so fucking red faced I thought steam was gonna fucking come out of those little ears. Then you tried to punch me. You missed terribly because I don’t fucking think you wanted to punch me. You pounded on my chest, called me a lying, cheating sonofabitch and then you kissed me. With fucking tongue. A lot of fucking tongue. And stuck your hand down my pants.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Did we…?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He rolled his eyes, but continued caressing my back. “Because it’s not a fucking decision you would have been okay with this morning. Because I fucking care about your feelings and I might be a fucking asshole, but I’m not that kind of guy.”

“We’ve had drunk sex before.”

“We were in a relationship, doll.”

“Were we?”

He sighed and pressed his face into my hair. “Yes. I’m fucking sorry you found out the way you did…I…I’m a fucking coward. I didn’t want to fucking lose you. I didn’t want to fucking lose her, either. So I never told you about her.”

“And you never told her about me.”

“She knows.”

I jerked my head back to look at him, thought I instantly regretted it as a wave of dizziness sent me reeling. He turned me to face him and held me steady, just as he always had.

“We don’t have the best marriage and I…” he swiped a hand down his unshaven face. “God I’m a fucking dick. When I sought you out, I was looking for sex. Something…easy.”

I stiffened and his fingers wrapped around my arms.

“When I took you out that night, I fully intended to fuck you and be done but I couldn’t fucking do it. I fucking…” he laughed and inhaled. “I had a fucking crush on you. I couldn’t fucking treat you that way. Look, I was a dick and I chose you because I thought you were the kind of girl who would let me fuck her because she was starving for fucking attention. I know that makes me sound like a gigantic fucking asshole, and I probably am. I did choose you because of your weight. I didn’t believe in fate until that fucking day. I’m so fucking glad I chose you. You’re fucking special to me and these past six months have fucking sucked without you and your snarky texts, that nervous laughter every time we fuck, or even the fucking way you look at me.”

I raised a wry brow at him. “The way I look at you?”

His eyes were unusually soft. “You fucking look at me like I hung the moon and fucking stars, doll.”

My cheeks turned red and he grinned, stroking the backs of his knuckles over them.

“That’s because for a long time, you were my knight in shining armor. My light in the fucking dark…”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, rocking back and forth. I knew I should be mad at him, and it might have been the leftover liquor or his sweet talk, but I just couldn’t. I’d missed him so much…And when I left, I’d miss him even more.

I lay my cheek on his shoulder, soaking in his heat, allowing myself to feel safe in his big, strong arms once again. His lips smoothed over my forehead and across my temple, down my other cheek and along my dimple, until our lips found each other. His kiss was everything to me.

I buried my fingers in his hair, but he pulled back ever so slightly, keeping his mouth against mine as he whispered, “Fucking make love to me, doll?”

“Yeah,” I whispered back.

We made love all afternoon, with him gently slipping in and out of me, ravishing me, and just loving me.


	19. Adrift

Lucille died on a Tuesday afternoon. I stood in the hall while Negan held her hand.

“Please, baby. Please, just hold on. I love you so much.”

I covered my face to hide my tears. Hearing Negan beg broke my fucking heart. All I wanted to do was go in there and fucking comfort him. But he needed his time with her. And I needed to be strong for him.

I slid down the wall, rocking back and forth on my heels, arms perched on my knees. I began to count the squiggly lines in the linoleum floor. Anything to keep myself from completely losing it. The last thing he needed was to comfort me.

Deep breaths. In…out…in…out. Thirty-six…thirty-seven…thirty-eight…

The door popped open and I sprang to my feet before I knew what I was doing. I expected to see him crying, or signs of tears. There were none. Just the harsh lines that developed over his face through the course of the past six months.

His dark eyes fell on me and he reached up to brush a tear from my cheek. He licked his thumb and bent over to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not letting me be fucking selfish.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and pull him in close, but it didn’t feel appropriate.  I folded my jacket over my arm and glanced up at him. His gaze was far away, with her. Today I wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Today…Well, I wished I was her today. Maybe Negan wouldn’t be in so much pain.

Without another word he walked down the hall, a ghost gliding through an empty, forlorn hall, though it was the middle of the afternoon and the day was horrifyingly sunny and bright. Following him, I noted he wasn’t walking with his normal straight-backed confidence. No, he was walking with a hunch to his shoulders. As if he wanted to make himself smaller. Or as if he wanted to disappear.

He stopped and turned back to me, looking like a lost little boy. “I fucking just realized. Today...” he cleared his throat. “Today is the first day of the rest of my life without her.”

I clamped down on the inside of my cheek, holding back tears. This time, though, I opened my arms and curled them around his thick, burly body, burying my face into his shirt. His wife had died, but he felt so warm and so alive in my arms, with his beating heart thumping against my cheek, his ragged breaths lifting and lowering my face.

“I am so sorry, Negan. I wish…I’m sorry.”

“Come on, doll. Let’s go the fuck home.”

I pulled back just enough to tip my face up. “Home?”

He closed his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live in…her home…again.”

“Home then, love,” I said and tugged him down the hall and out to the parking garage. His hands still shook and I forced mine to be steady. For him.

We cried in the car together, our foreheads pressed together and our tears melding into single droplets. A minute, an hour, an eternity later, I pulled away and started the car, driving us home, sniffling along the way. Every so often Negan would swipe his fingers over my wet face, which only sent me into another flurry of tears. I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around.

When we walked through the door of my house, he wandered from room to room, lost, looking for his way. As he ambled down the hallway, I slipped a tablecloth from the foyer table and covered the mirror.

“What’re you doing?”

“Shiva.”

He squinted at me. “Why?”

“It’s what I know.”

He snorted and turned away from me.  I watched him traipse down the hall, absorbed in his own grief, lost to everything but his own world.  

How long would he stay adrift? And would I ever get him back?


	20. Anywhere but Here

We wed a week after the death certificate was released. It seemed harsh with her body barely cold in the ground, but it had been her wish. I knew no one would have supported us, so I settled for a quick courthouse ceremony and a honeymoon in Vegas.

Negan lost a hundred bucks, while I won fifty. We tried to have as good a time as we could. At night, sometimes, he would sit behind me and wrap me in his arms, draping me back against him. He would say how much Lucille would have loved the day’s activities. One day I kissed his neck and asked him to tell me about how they met.

He wove a beautiful, yet hilarious tale about the fried chicken in the bar, how she accidentally dunked him in the river and how they ended up together.

“So that was that insanely hot chick you told me about,” I said with a laugh.

“Mmm,” he said into my hair. “I also met this insanely hot chick at the University of Maryland…She was selling these fucking god awful, asshole rimming, cupcakes. You know…I fucking married them both.”

I snuggled closer and propped my feet against the railing with a dreamy smile. I wish we could have stayed there forever, watching the sunset and just being.

After the honeymoon we fell into the comfortable routine of two people who had been together for so long, they didn’t need to spend every waking moment together. Of course, we still came together at night. Often violently. But I wasn’t opposed.

I made his lunch and he did the things he’d always done for me. Fix shit, mow the lawn and make sure my car had gas. We watched shit like Game of Thrones together, and he groaned every time I mentioned the books.

All in all, we were happy. I was happy. When I realized I’d missed my period, my heart skipped a beat and I rushed out to buy a test. Two pink lines.

I walked in our house that day and the first thing I heard was Negan’s groan. A giggle escaped my lips. We’d been married for six months and together for almost thirteen years and not once had I ever caught him masturbating. I grinned, thinking about the celebratory sex we would have when I surprised him.

And boy did I surprise him…Negan and the woman bouncing on top of him.

My voice trembled when I spoke. “You fucking asshole.”

The blonde jumped off my husband and covered herself up, looking everywhere but my face. Negan however looked at me with utter horror.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home for another few hours…”

I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. There was nothing to say anymore. So I jerked the small silver band from my finger and dropped it on the carpet before throwing myself out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

I couldn’t breathe or think or do anything. Pissed didn’t even begin to cover it. Hurt, pissed, betrayed…add in the hypocrisy and the pregnancy hormones and I was a fucking pot ready to boil.

I had put my hands on the counter, taking deep breaths to calm myself, but the longer I stood there the angrier I got. He was fucking cheating on me! And on the very day I found out I was pregnant. In my fucking bed. At least when it was us, he had the decency to fucking rent a hotel room so we didn’t fucking disrespect Lucille that way.

He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and an apologetic look on his face. “Doll, please. I never meant for you to find out this way.”

I laughed bitterly. “Find out this way or find out at all? Instead of talking to me you decide to fuck the first slut who threw herself at you.”

“Nayna—”

“—shut up, you fucking asshole.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Look, I fucking…I can’t be a one fucking woman man. I fucking never have been able to.”

“Kiss my ass.”

I snatched my car keys from the hook. He stepped in front of me and held the ring out to me.

“You promised for better or fucking worse.”

“And you promised fidelity.”

He took my limp hand in his and tried to put the ring on my coiled finger. “I want to be married to you. No matter what, you’ll always be the most important woman in my life.”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I won’t raise my child in a house where its father disrespects its mother so fucking blatantly.”

He stopped trying to jam the ring on my finger. In fact, he dropped my hand altogether. “Child? You’re…you’re pregnant?”

I jerked the test from my pocket and threw it at him. He caught it and cradled it between his hands as if it were already our baby. “Nayna…” His voice was full of wonderment and awe. As if I hadn’t just walked in on him fucking another woman.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re disregarding my feelings.”

He looked up at me. “Never again. I promise. I fucking swear. I’m sorry, doll. I love you. Please?”

He pawed for my hand again, but I jerked it from his grasp. “I’m done with you. I deserve better than you. Lucille deserved better than you. This…this baby deserves better than you.”

“You’re being a fucking hypocrite!”

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I don’t need you anymore, Negan, so you can fuck your little teenaged whore until your nutsack shrivels up and falls off for all I motherfucking care. Fuck you!”

I whirled about by he grabbed my arm. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” I said, jerking my wrist from his grasp.

“You can’t take my kid away from me.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Watch me, ya fucking jackass. You make another move and I will make fucking sure you NEVER see this kid. I will make sure it hates you. Hell, I probably won’t even have to. You’re a shitty ass person.”

He recoiled as if I’d slapped him. Normally I would be hurt, but he couldn’t possibly be feeling the kind of hurt I was.

“Goodbye, Negan. Have a nice fucking life.”

I walked out of our home with my head held high. He no longer had the same kind of power over me that he used to. His begging and pleading fell on deaf ears as I threw myself into my car and drove away.

I hated him and I never, ever wanted to see him again.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me...

She thought she and Negan would be together for the rest of their lives. But a relationship built on secrets and lies can’t be sustained.

The baby rolling around in her belly, the little inducer of heartburn and other nighttime misery, sealed the fact that Negan would always be part of her life and she a part of his. The thought of seeing him, but not being with him, not holding him, not being able to kiss him left an empty void in her heart. If she could cut ties with him completely, she could mourn and move on. But seeing him every time she dropped her son off to see his father…There was no coming back from that.

For now, she desperately needed to get away. When she looked at him, it took every ounce of self-restraint she had to not punch him in the face or kick him in the ballsack. She had given him her heart and he threw it on the ground and smeared it across the pavement. Her desire to do the same left her with high blood pressure and building migraines. So she emptied her bank account, quit her dream job and packed up Strawberry the dog.

Which is how she ended up in fucking Podunk, Georgia. She intended on driving all the way down to the bottom of Florida, staying for a week and then maybe driving back up. But the flat tire said otherwise, leaving her stranded with no charge in her cellphone, no GPS and no way to get out of there.

The idea of walking along the unlit road appealed to her less than sleeping in her car. It’s not that she couldn’t change a tire, but being seven months pregnant and attempting to haul the lift out, fuck with the lug nuts, shove the donut, she was afraid to injure the baby.

She gripped the wheel and thunked her head repeatedly, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

A sharp rap on the window made her jump. She threw a shaking hand over her pounding heart and rolled down the window.

Nayna found herself looking into a pair of warm, striking blue eyes. She glanced down, noticing his sheriff’s uniform and felt a flood of relief.

He smiled at her, lacking any intention other than to help. “Ma’am, do you need help?”

She let out a bark of nervous laughter. “Yes, if you could call me a tow, I would be ever so grateful, Officer….”

He shoved his hand into hers and pumped up and down in an entirely friendly gesture. “Rick…Rick Grimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, please don't hate me....  
> On a more serious note, yes, this is exactly how I planned to end it. But, if there is enough interest, I might be convinced to do a sequel. I've got a few ideas in mind that sound hilarious.   
> Thank you guys for sticking with me through the long time spans between updates, the uncertainty and even the horrible, horrible self-doubt.  
> Don't forget to follow me on tumblr at https://lovingzombiechaos.tumblr.com/ where I have posted addition smut stories and other kinds of goodies.  
> Hope to see you guys on the next few projects.


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